Enough(29)

He kissed my head and held me a moment. A yawn escaped and I hurried to cover it with my hand.

“Red, you’re beat. Let’s tuck you into bed.” As if he did it every day, he picked me up and carried me to bed. He laid me down gently and kissed my forehead, but I directed his lips to mine, tasting pasta on him. I thought I might’ve convinced him to go a round with me again, but he pulled back even though I saw he wanted me.

“See ya tomorrow.” He grabbed his boots and slipped into the living room. A few seconds later, the sound of the door closing made his departure a reality.

I lay in bed a moment, almost surrendering to sleep. A dirty plate sat on my counter and my dead bolt wasn’t locked. I hauled my ass out of bed, locking the door before I cleaned up the dishes. Hands in soapy water, I let my mind wander to what it’d feel like on the back of Dare’s bike. Just another in a long line of wishes that wouldn’t come true.

* * *

Over the next two weeks, we gelled together so easily it scared me and excited me. He became a part of my days and a bigger part of my nights, but he never stayed or ate at my place again.

I’d always wondered when I’d hit the ceiling and say, nope, no more sex for me, I’ve had enough. But, even having the most sex in my life, I always craved more Dare.

This week had turned into a zoo, booked with appointments one right after another. Zayn explained we were swamped because of a huge party at the club this weekend. I didn’t understand what he meant when he said retirees were in town. None of the guys wearing cuts into the shop appeared to be over fifty, let alone retirement age. More biker slang I didn’t understand. In fact, I’d started a list, and if I ever found an extra minute with Dare, I’d be asking him what retiree, sheep and dark patch meant.

“Hey, sweetie, Dare here yet?” A grizzled old guy leered at me.

“Yeah, baby cakes, he’s in back finishing up another client.” I arched my eyebrow.

He laughed so hard his belly shook. “I’m Gimp, glad to meet ya...”

“Lila.” I grinned at him. “Head on back. Dare said to send you straight to him. He’s working on Buzzard now.”

“Getting my cock tatted up pretty. You oughta watch.” He winked at me.

I rolled my eyes. “Yours will be the sixth this week. You Brotherhood boys like your pain.”

He guffawed and slapped his knee. “Guess I’ll need to think up a new one.” He headed down the hall.

I breathed a sigh of relief. Then twenty minutes later Dare, Buzzard and Gimp came up front. “Biker discount on the work.” Dare handed me the work order for Buzzard’s tattoo. I’d learned the biker discount was twenty-five percent off.

Dare patted my ass and headed back with Gimp. Again I heard someone ask about sheep.

Does he mean me? What the hell is a sheep? I moved the word to the top of the list.

At six, I brought down a crockpot of chicken tortilla soup and put it in the office. I’d started the soup earlier, knowing none of the guys would get a break today. Within minutes, the spicy, cheesy aroma spread throughout the shop.

It wasn’t five minutes later when Zayn ambled up front. “What do I smell?”

“Soup. Want some?” I pointed to the office.

He gave me a smacking kiss on the cheek and headed for the soup. “You’re a lifesaver. The town pizza is shit.” He carried his bowl to the back.

I’d tried it, and had to agree. Really the diner that closed at seven every night served the only decent food in town, but they didn’t do to-go.

“Hey, Zayn has soup.” Rock’s whine preceded him.

Grinning, I pointed to the crockpot. He stood next to me and spooned the first bite into his mouth. “Delicious. Wow, that’s the shit. Ready to marry me? I’m better in bed than Dare.”

I snorted out a laugh. I’d become used to their upfront humor and need to talk about things I considered private.

“Go work, and quit tempting me.”

Rock trotted away with his soup. Then Angel sauntered out. She hadn’t said two sentences to me since I’d started, but I tried not to let it bother me. What I’d heard her say to others in the shop didn’t make me anxious to be buddies. She stood in the office, eating her soup, and still she didn’t speak. After she finished her bowl she ladled another, presumably for Weasel.

She stopped next to me but stared out the window. We stood silent for a minute. “Barking up the wrong tree with Dare. MJ’s going to want her claws in you.”

“Excuse me?” Unless someone translated, I had no idea what Angel meant.

“Mama Jericho, MJ, she collects cooks. I’m a shit cook.” Then she wandered down the hallway.