Heart Like Mine (Reapers MC: Conroe Chapter, #3)

by Hunter, Bijou

  “That’s how they think. Outsiders get blamed for everything. I can’t let Rebel go back to them.”

  “He ain’t going anywhere.”

  Her angry tone ends any interest I have in pushing the subject. I’m not sure how this family or the motorcycle club work, but I sense Patrick would be better off staying in Milkweed when he’s released.

  “Scarlet Johansson,” Phoebe growls from the front door. “Are you causing trouble?”

  “Hey, baby, don’t be mad. We were just talking.”

  “Stop crowding Georgia and get inside.”

  I try not to laugh at how the taller woman obeys her petite wife. Following Scarlet inside, I use the bathroom and check on Rebel who’s pointing out all the important stuff he remembers on the DVD. Mainly, the baby’s ding-a-ling.

  Then I return to the porch and wait for Jack. I barely spoke at the doctor’s office. First, I was afraid the doctor would find something wrong. Then I had to share Rebel’s and my medical history. Normally, I’d keep things secret like I was taught in Milkweed. But I was never one of the Hegseths, and I need to stop thinking like them.

  I blurted out everything from Rebel’s broken arm to the baby I lost and all my miscarriages. My boy wanted to cry, especially when I did, but he stayed so strong. Then he heard his brother’s heartbeat, and the sadness in his eyes disappeared.

  I had trouble regaining my good mood, but I’m ready now to speak to Jack. Even just “hello, how was your day?” is better than staring at him. Part of me fears that the more we get to know each other, the less we’ll like. Right now, our relationship is surface stuff. He’s gorgeous and has a smile that makes me think anything’s possible.

  But I don’t know him. Every day, I’ll force myself to get closer even if we’re better apart. Fear holds me back because being strong comes with too many negatives. Standing up for myself means drawing attention and getting knocked down.

  Jack arrives on his Harley, roaring like a beast up the road. I spot my SUV, looking better than I remember. Another car follows them. I’m a little nervous about that part. New people mean new worries.

  But once a blond guy parks my SUV, he says something to Jack and climbs into the second car. Then the other men are gone.

  “The tank was on empty,” Jack says, walking up to the porch.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Jack gives me an annoyed frown. He looks back at the road as if tense. When his gaze finds me again, he sighs. “Every time you think to say you’re sorry, say something else instead.”

  “Like what?”

  A smile appears on his tanned, chiseled face, and I feel my skin warm. “Hell yeah.”

  “Okay.”

  “The SUV’s tank was on empty,” he says, shuffling closer until he’s within touching distance.

  “Hell yeah.”

  “I wanted to take you out to dinner tonight, but my sister says I should move slower. You know because of your eye and the shit with your ex.”

  “Hell yeah.”

  Jack’s smile returns. “I get that this is weird, but people in my family do whatever they want. Weird isn’t going to stop us.”

  “Okay.”

  “Maybe you can be like us now that you’re safe.”

  I stare into his electric blue eyes and dig deep into the strong part of me that’s hidden for so long.

  “I brushed my teeth when I got home,” I babble. “In case you wanted to kiss me.”

  Jack’s smile widens, and he leans down. I don’t flinch. I try to be like I was that night in the honkytonk. Not the drunk part, but how I was optimistic. Rebel and I were living in a nice little basement apartment. I found a fun job. And I had the attention of the sexiest creature on the planet. The world was in the palm of my hand.

  His lips brush across mine. A test. He’s making sure I won’t change my mind. His self-control is intoxicating. I’ve only known a man who stole whatever he wanted. Jack cares enough about me not to push too hard.

  His lips tease a little more as if he’s waiting for me to give him a signal. I lift up on my tippy-toes just enough to press my lips solidly against his.

  Jack’s hands are on me instantly, pressing his body against mine. I don’t feel intimidated by his size. Jack has a way of possessing me that doesn’t feel as if I’m being crushed under his need.

  Maddy’s voice startles me, and I pull away. Jack frowns at the door where his mom appears, wearing a big smile.

  “Another grandson,” she coos.

  “Way to cockblock, Mom.”

  Maddy pauses, looks ready to apologize, and then shrugs. “A boy,” she coos again, ignoring his complaint.

  Frown gone, Jack caresses my belly. “Did you see the DVD where my boy did his Krav Maga?”

  “He looks so healthy,” Maddy says, hugging her son and then startling me with a hug too. “You kept him and Rebel safe,” she whispers and cups my face. “Now you’ll let us help you, okay?”

  Nodding, I study Jack standing behind his smiling mom. Though I see some of Maddy in her son’s features, I suspect he resembles his father more. I’ve wondered about his dad. Is he alive? Does he live in Conroe? I notice Maddy wears a wedding ring, but no one ever mentions her husband.

  Tonight, I’ll find a chance to be alone with Jack, and we can talk more. I’ll ask about his father, and I’ll share something non-depressing about me. Not sure about that last part, but mostly, we’ll kiss and act like normal people rather than a woman running from crazies and a man sporting a Reapers tat on his bicep.

  THE HOTHEAD

  For most of the evening, I can’t get a moment alone with Georgia. Dinner is a loud affair once Yancy and Janis get into a shouting match over whether Scarlet Witch could beat Captain Marvel. Rebel—the fool—tries to calm them down with logic. Clearly, he lacks experience with tween girls.

  Meanwhile, Cady, who started the argument, sits back and smiles at the mayhem. Basically, it’s a normal Tuesday at the house.

  Mom ignores the arguing and sits between the twins. Scarlet has a policy of not interfering with stupid arguments. “Kids need to fuck up,” she claims. Phoebe has a policy of picking her battles. “I want to save my freak-outs for the big stuff,” she insists.

  I have a policy of letting women fight because I like free entertainment.

  Sitting next to me, Georgia watches the drama while wearing a blank expression. She must be horrified, maybe amused, possibly annoyed. Her face is a mask of nothingness. I can’t take my eyes off of Georgia as she watches my nieces scream PG-rated insults while the twins pound on their high chairs in support of the madness.

  With Georgia hiding in her head, I find myself chomping at the fucking bit to know what she’s thinking. There’s no doubt keeping her feelings and thoughts secret saved her with those sick fucks in Milkweed. But I can’t stand not knowing. I’m nearly ready to pick her up and walk out of the room where we can be alone to talk.

  At the tail end of dinner, Sissy and Butch show up with their four kids. The argument ends instantly, proving neither girl was upset in the first place. They just wanted to get loud and try out new insults.

  Now, my nieces only care about showing off Rebel to their besties, eleven-year-old Haydee and eight-year-old Hart. The boy is probably thrilled to have another penis in the mix.

  “We brought clothes,” Sissy says while shuffling closer to Georgia. “For your son to wear.”

  While his woman attempts to bond with mine, Butch holds his two-year-old son, Hopper. I stare into my cousin’s eyes, and he stares back. This is us communicating. I prefer it to speaking since he mostly just grunts and says cuss words.

  Georgia emerges from wherever she’s been hiding in her head and smiles at Sissy. I suspect she’s curious about the blonde baby girl in my blond cousin-in-law’s arms.

  I feel myself losing access to Georgia again. First, Mom hogs her. Then the dinner explodes into hormonal tween madness. Now Sissy tries to lure another friend into her Conroe girl squad. No doubt they
have a lot in common—sons around the same age, early lives filled with getting smacked around, and currently hot for Johansson men. Sure, they’re fucking twins, but I’m looking to spend time alone with Georgia. Yet these people are cockblocking me left and right!

  Meanwhile, Scarlet takes the clothes for Rebel to the guest room. The older kids head downstairs “to chill” without adults bugging them. The twins try to climb Butch to get to Hopper who stares down at them and laughs.

  Sissy stops hogging my woman long enough for Georgia to escape outside where she stares at the clear autumn sky. Even though she’s probably overwhelmed and needs to be alone, I follow her.

  “Are you cold?” I ask.

  Before she can answer, I rest my jacket around her shoulders.

  “Where’s your father?” she blurts out.

  Her question startles me. “In Ellsberg.”

  “I don’t know where that is,” she says as her pale brown eyes watch me intently.

  “It’s about two hours from here. Scarlet and I grew up there, and it’s the headquarters for our club.”

  “Are your parents still together?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  Georgia hears my asshole tone and shrinks into herself. I don’t think she’s afraid of me, but she isn’t comfortable either. I’m used to saying and doing whatever I want. That’s how I act with Mom and Scarlet. Even Phoebe puts up with my shit, but Georgia only knows me as the stud who knocked her up half a year ago. I’m a stranger, and she asked me a reasonable question.

  Sighing, I adjust my tone when answering, “My parents are separated. It was supposed to be temporary, and then Mom bought a place here and started babysitting local kids like she did back in Ellsberg. Pop won’t move to Conroe. So, I guess, their separation is now permanent.”

  “Do you like your father?”

  “Not lately, but I used to worship the asshole. They even call me ‘T2’ because his name is Tucker and I’m the new version of him.”

  “But you don’t worship him anymore because of your parents’ problems?”

  I stretch out my arms and wonder why we’re talking about my pop.

  “Do you like flowers?” I ask, wanting to change the subject.

  “I guess. You mean like gardening?”

  “No, like a man bringing you flowers.”

  Georgia shakes her head, and a lock of her thick hair falls in her eyes. I immediately brush it aside just to have an excuse to touch her.

  I keep feeling as if finding Georgia is a dream, and I’ll wake up to find out she’s gone forever. Touching her reassures me enough to avoid holding her against me and refusing to let go.

  “I don’t want you to bring me flowers,” Georgia says after falling silent as my fingers linger on her cheek.

  “Why?”

  “I like when you gave me your jacket. That’s something other men don’t do. Buying things to make things better is something other men do.”

  “Did the asshole bring you flowers?”

  Georgia shakes her head. “He was never sorry, but his brother, Sean, always bought things for Ainsley after he hurt her or got caught cheating. She acted like flowers and gifts made everything better, but they’re just things. I’d rather not get hit or cheated on.”

  “I can do that,” I say, kneeling down and nuzzling her bump. “I can be loyal. People will tell you that I can’t, but that’s because they don’t know me now that I have you.”

  “Why me?”

  “Well, why me?”

  “You're handsome and rich.”

  Georgia struggles to sound indifferent and shallow. Her failure makes my dick hard.

  “Would you have taken any guy to the back of your SUV?” I ask and rest my head against her belly.

  “Sure. I was very needy that night.”

  “I’m not special at all.”

  Georgia’s gaze betrays her chilly bitch words. Her earlier mask is gone, and I see myself through her eyes. She’s a huge fan of me, which makes my dick even harder.

  Biting her bottom lip, she seems hesitant before her fingers slide through my hair. Sighing, I can’t get enough of how her touch awakens parts of me that I never knew existed. Turns out, I’m more than a walking dick.

  “Tomorrow, can you come to my RV for dinner?” I ask, and her gaze flickers over to my place nearby.

  “Will you cook?” she asks.

  “No way. I don’t want you puking.”

  Georgia smiles easier now. Her fingers still tease my scalp, and I notice her hard nipples poking through her shirt. Sure, that last part might be from the cool air, but I’m certain it’s related to my hot bod.

  “Can I cook?” she asks when we fall silent for too long.

  “No. I want you to sit back and talk to me. No distractions.”

  “Okay.”

  “I wish I could have you to myself all night, but you need to help Rebel recover from the chick attack he witnessed earlier.”

  Georgia’s mask falls away completely now. She loves that I mentioned her boy. Scarlet was right about how Butch won Sissy’s heart. It wasn’t his bare chest or fixing her house. Her kids were the key.

  If that grumpy statue can pull off the smooth dad routine, I’ll fucking ace it.

  THE DOORMAT

  Jack nuzzles my bump so much that I start to wonder if he has a preggo fetish. Then I realize he keeps kneeling as a way to seem less threatening. It works too. Having him on his knees while smiling up at me inspires me with the courage to run my hands through his short, thick blond hair. When I touch him, Jack’s eyes nearly close, and he makes an approving moaning sound.

  I’ve never had such an effect on a man. For someone as gorgeous as Jack to crave me awakens a heat deep in my gut. Not sexual as much as primal. I want to know what it feels like to be truly desired. What happened at the honkytonk was a mess of alcohol and lies. We were playing a wonderful game where no one could get hurt.

  This right now is something else, and I need to control my fear long enough to tempt this sexy man.

  “What do you like to do?” he asks after finally getting to his feet and guiding me into the sunroom where it’s warmer.

  I give in to my urges and scoot closer. My hand slides over his resting on his thigh. Jack’s breathing speeds up when my fingers graze the seam of his jeans. Pursing my lips, I struggle to raise my gaze. I’m afraid of what Jack wants next.

  His lower lip is so plump. I swear he’s too handsome to be real. But his mother and sister are beautiful too. It’s just genetics. Will our baby look like me or take after his father like Rebel did?

  “I love working outside,” Jack mumbles, staring into my eyes. “As a kid, I wanted to be outside all the time. I’d camp in our backyard every weekend. My parents didn’t give me shit about that. They let me do what I needed to do.”

  “Is that why you live in an RV rather than a house?”

  “No, I just don’t want a house, and living in a tent out here isn’t an option with those fucking goats always getting loose.”

  Smiling softly, I don’t dare look away. Jack challenges me to focus on only him.

  “Is there space in your RV for a baby? And what about Rebel?”

  “Sure. They can sleep on the couch.”

  I refuse to smile. We’re having a contest now. Then I’m struck by a dread that chills me to the bone.

  “What?” he asks when I look away. “Something’s happened.”

  “I felt like someone walked over my grave.”

  “That makes no sense since you’re sitting right here and not dead.”

  “Haven’t you heard that saying?”

  “Yeah, but I don’t understand it.”

  “I feel dread.”

  “About me?”

  “I don’t know. Something,” I say, scanning the now-dark evening. “What did you say when that girl Jordyn told you she was pregnant?”

  “I said that if it was mine that I’d spoil the kid rotten.”

  “Did you try
to date her?”

  “I’m not dating you, Georgia,” he says in a low rumble. “I’m building something special here.”

  “Because of the baby?” I ask, searching his face for answers.

  “I was looking for you before I knew about the baby.”

  “Because I was so good at fucking in the back of the SUV?”

  Jack’s angry frown fades. “You came so easy that night.”

  Now I frown. “I’m so— Hell yeah.”

  Wrapping his arm around me, he smiles. “You were like a virgin, all excited and easy to please.”

  “I’d never been fucked well,” I mumble and then decide I don’t like saying cuss words so much. Patrick didn’t want me using them, and I ache to do the opposite of whatever he wanted, but “fuck” sounds ugly coming from my mouth.

  “I know, baby. You’ve been deprived of so much, but I’m a giving guy.”

  Jack’s tone makes me uneasy. “What do you want to happen with us?”

  “I want you to get to know me, and I want to get to know you.”

  “What if I don’t like you?” I cry, unable to control myself suddenly. “What if you don’t like me?”

  Jack isn’t accustomed to people giving him grief. I see the irritation in his eyes, and then he pretends to look out at the dogs. Sometimes, Patrick would get a faraway look before he decided I’d disrespected him.

  I don’t scoot away from Jack, though. I stare at him and wait for him to lash out. Just in case, though, my arms reflexively wrap around my belly.

  “I don’t know,” he whispers and then glances at me. “I guess we’d have to be friends. For the baby, we’d be on good terms.”

  I don’t dare look away despite his quiet voice. Marsha talked in a hushed tone all the time, but she was willing to hit me with a broom or remote control. Anything she had handy.

  “But that night felt right. We fucked like teenagers in the back of a car. It was dumb. I acted like a fucking idiot, but it was also great,” he says, taking my hand. “I wanted to know when your birthday was and where you were born. What do you eat when you’re grumpy? Do you like dogs? Are you allergic to anything? All these months, I wondered all types of shit, and now you’re here, but I’m afraid to ask anything. Kissing you is easier because I don’t have to worry about saying something wrong.”