Bared:Dirty Cruisers MC(22)

"Oh, look at the time," Honey said, his voice strained, "It's already time to go. Time really flies when you're working out here." Lies. It had felt like an eternity out there in the greenhouse with Elle. Just feet away from her but it might as well have been miles. He craved her touch, her kiss. But she was unreachable. She'd built another wall around herself and this time, he didn't know how to climb over it.



"Really?" Elle asked with a forced casualness that he didn't buy for a second, "Yes, time flies." She slowly peeled off the floral print garden gloves that she'd been wearing, her gaze glued to her feet. He was about to leave when she spoke again, this time shocking the hell out of him, "I can, um, you can drive back with me. If you want, I mean. I understand if you'd rather have Carla give you a ride."



"What? No! I mean, yes! I mean," Honey took a deep breath, fully aware that he was making a complete ass of himself, "I mean, I would love to. I would love you to. That would be great."



It was a long, silent, and uncomfortable ride back to Elle's house. A hundred times Honey opened his mouth to say something, to start a conversation that would ease some of the tension threatening to choke him but every time he would shut it again, the words trapped uselessly inside.                       
       
           



       



And then, they were there, pulling up the long driveway and he didn't know if he should be relieved or curse in frustration. Honey got out, slamming the door behind him as he rushed around to the driver's side to pull it open for Elle, but she was already getting out on her own and it left him standing there, wondering helplessly what to do.



What the fuck is going on with me? he shouted at himself. He'd never felt this out of sorts around a woman before, especially a woman he'd slept with. He couldn't shake the feeling that she was trying to brush him off, or just ignore him altogether, and he hated it. He didn't know what to do with himself. He was actually … nervous. About a woman!



She quickly unlocked the front door and walked in, not even looking back at him to see if he was following and he found himself trailing after her, wondering desperately what he could say to get himself back on familiar ground. Because he sure as shit didn't understand the trembling, unsteady emotion that was haunting him, that had been haunting him for the past three god awful, unending days.



Honey stood there, just inside the doorway, watching as she followed the exact same routine as every other day. She set her handmade bag on the shelf beside the door, hanging her coat on the left most hook underneath it. Then she when straight for the tea kettle, filling it up and putting it on the stove as she puttered around the kitchen.



From what he was able to deduce, Elle Watson survived solely on hot tea and whatever baked goods she'd made the weekend before. Maybe that was why she was so small, he wondered as he continued to watch her. The kettle started to whistle and she took down two cups, putting a tea bag in each one and an extra dollop of honey in his. She thought it was funny that he loved the stuff, because of his nickname. Of course, his nickname had nothing to do with the sweetener but he wasn't sure if he was ready to tell her the real story behind it. Not quite yet.



Elle brought him one of the cups. He'd mostly gotten over the feeling of looking absolutely ridiculous holding the tiny porcelain teacup with flowers enameled on it as he took a sip. Another thing he'd gotten used to. He almost shook his head at himself, but instead took another calming sip. She put her own cup to her lips, blowing on the steaming hot liquid and had to bite back a groan as she pursed her lips, not even aware of the too tempting picture she made. Damn it. It really was fucking torture. But he wouldn't have it any other way. A thought struck him then, as Elle picked at some week old scones she had on a decorative plate on the counter.



He grinned at her, already starting to move purposefully around the kitchen as he threw over his shoulder, "Why don't I make dinner tonight?"





Chapter 16


Elle peeked at him from the corner of her eye but then jerked her gaze back to the television set propped up on the small table in the living room. She was … confused. Conflicted. Something had changed that night, and she couldn't put her finger on it. And that made her nervous. Because it was never good to be in the dark about anything when it came to the man currently sitting next to her.



The plates had been cleared and washed from the surprisingly good meal that Honey had made her. A simple pasta dish made from things that she had in her pantry, but it had still surprised her. Just another layer of mystery to the already confounding man.



Now they were both sitting on the couch in the living room, watching one of her favorite movies. It was old, a black and white film called The Westward Wind. A classic tale of love, and loss. She'd loved it ever since she was a kid, watching it over and over again with her parents. And oddly enough, Honey seemed to be watching raptly from his seat next to her. It was infuriating. Because all she could focus on, was him.



His scent, sexy and spicy and all him, wrapped around her, distracting her and even though he wasn't quite touching her he was sitting so close that she could feel his body heat, reaching out, sending waves of sweet warmth through her entire right side.



The night was growing dark around them, and as the movie played un unheeded, the tension between them grew and grew to unbearable heights. It was almost to the part where the heroine discovers that the man she's fallen in love with is actually the scoundrel that had stolen her pearl necklace, and Elle couldn't take another minute of it.



"I'm sorry!" the words burst out of her, falling out of her mouth before she could stop them. Not that she wanted to. She knew as soon as she'd spoken them that it was true. She really was sorry. Honey looked at her questioningly, waiting for her to continue, not saying a word or interrupting. For some reason, the absence of judgement in his warm, dark gaze made it that much harder to open her mouth again.                       
       
           



       



"I'm sorry for what I said," Elle went on in a more moderate tone, picking each word carefully as she went, "I'm sorry that I said that us … being together was a mistake. It wasn't."



He looked at her for a long moment, just looking, before turning back to the movie as if it was the most important thing in the world. "I know."



"You … know?"



"I know it wasn't a mistake. I just wondered why you had to say it was." He didn't look over at her again as he spoke, just kept watching the black and white dance sequence flow across the T.V. screen.



He was completely silent as she gathered her thoughts, searching for what to say, for how to explain without tearing a piece of her past wide open. It was impossible, she finally decided. But guilt had her trying anyways.



"My parents were wonderful people. They were loving and supportive. When I told them that I wanted to learn how to play the piano they took me to lessons, signed me up for concerts and recitals. They were there for every single one. They bought me my first piano." Elle's gaze automatically went towards the back of the house, where the music room was. Where her most prized possession had pride of place, right in the middle.



"They died when I was ten. Just a little girl, a child with no clue at all – " she cut off, shaking her head as memories flooded her. Painful memories. Memories that broke her heart over and over again.



"It was a car crash. A drunk driver who walked away with little more than bruises but, not my parents. They didn't walk away at all. When the social worker came for me I ran away and hid in the crawl space of our old house. I didn't have any other family, there was nowhere else for me to go," Elle paused, staring straight ahead of her, and Honey's gaze was fixed on her now, "I got trapped. The door stuck and I couldn't get out. I screamed and screamed for someone to help me but … no one heard."



If she let herself dwell on it she could still remember the awful grief, the terrible pressure of those hours she had been locked in the dark, the feeling of not being able to breath, like she was drowning even though there was no water.



"It took them almost a whole day to find me. They thought I was just upset and had been hiding. They were out of patience with the kid who was backing everything up. Since then I can't … I haven't been … Well, I'll just say that I don't love being confined in small spaces," Elle forced out a weak laugh but it had a hollow ring to it. Then, she did one of the hardest things she'd ever had to. She forced herself to look over at Honey and she was instantly trapped by the intensity in his dark gaze. There was sadness, anger, and sympathy in them, all wrapped up with something else. Something soft and tender that she didn't want to look too closely at.



"I just wanted you to know why … It's no excuse though, for what I said. I didn't mean it, not really. I just panicked. And I hope you can accept my apology."