Enough(31)

I turned around with no on my lips to find Dare as somber as if he’d asked me to marry him. The no died in a second.

“Can I think about it?” He frowned and I hurried on. “I’m worried I’ll embarrass you. All week people talk with words I don’t understand. I have a list of them, and I’m afraid I’ll break the rules or make someone mad.” I gulped, ready to continue, but he stood, hugging me to him.

“Red, we’ll talk tomorrow night. Then you tell me.” He gave me his serious look, the one with the crease in his brows. “You’ll never be an embarrassment. Proud to...” He paused. “To know you.”

The vise of disappointment squeezed my chest. The delivery guy who brought ink knew me. One minute Dare was holding his breath waiting for my answer and the next he dismissed me. My head started to hurt, probably from dehydration instead of the annoying man inches from me.

Reminded I was thirsty, I headed for the fridge and water, while behind me I heard Dare shut the bathroom door. I drank the cool water and considered what I should do. This was the part where things got complicated, but I wasn’t sure I wanted complicated. Throwing away the heavy thoughts along with the water bottle, I moved to the door so I could slip on my flats.

He walked toward me entirely too serious, so I jumped into his arms and kissed him. “Thanks. That’s my favorite so far.”

He snorted a laugh and set me down. “Damn good.” The confident tilt of his chin was back.

My chest filled with pride and satisfaction.

You’ll never be an embarrassment. He could be different. All the others had loved to put me in my place, below them, and the smallest mistake turned into a major embarrassment. No matter how I tried, I hadn’t been good enough.





Chapter Eight: Lila

The next morning I hurried to answer a knock almost an hour before the shop opened. I hoped it wasn’t another handsy biker because I’d about had my fill. A middle-aged woman about five foot one with bright red hair and smile lines creasing her face barged into the shop.

“Hello, honey, I’m MJ, Mama Jericho, and had to meet you.” The woman overflowed with energy. It burst out of her words, through her wide gestures and her fast stride—not a woman to take lightly.

“Hi, I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you.” I held out my hand, but she bypassed it, hugging me tight to her bony body. It was hard to believe such a small person had birthed Jericho, who stood over six foot.

“Your books done?” She turned serious.

“Yes, ma’am. Do you need them?” I headed to grab them.

“Nah, Stork will be by, but I plan to steal you for a late breakfast or early lunch, your call. You game?”

I didn’t think no was an option, and she intrigued me.

“Sure. Sounds great.” I stopped to lock up the shop, and we walked the block to the diner.

“You like Barden?” MJ asked.

“Yeah, a friendly town, and I’m starting to feel at home.”

“Need anything? We like taking care of ours.”

I gulped, thinking of what Dare said about my furniture. I shook my head. I planned to figure it out on my own.

We walked into the small diner and across the black-and-white-tiled floor to a newly cleared table in back—perfect timing. MJ sat down across from me.

A middle-aged waitress came by to take our order. “Hey, Jen, what’s the special?” MJ greeted her.

We ordered amid Jen and MJ catching up on town gossip. Once the waitress walked away, MJ focused on me.

“Dare asked you to the party. And you said?” MJ stared straight at me.

She was direct.

“We’re...” I searched for the right word.

“Fucking?” MJ laughed, holding her stomach. “Dear, I’ve done more of that than you can dream of.”

I was positive that was true. “Yeah, no emotions, the sex. This party feels like not casual, and I’m afraid—”

“No reason to fear the club—we’re legal and not too raunchy.” MJ’s gaze narrowed on me.

I held my palms up. “No, I’m afraid getting to know him better means heartache for me. I’m worried I don’t know the lingo, the rules, and will do something stupid, but I’m not afraid of the club.” If the woman let me finish a sentence, then she’d know my opinion.

Jen brought our coffee on a tray filled with food. The delicious smells of bacon and sausage had my stomach growling. I sipped my black coffee while MJ put enough sugar and cream in hers, I didn’t think it counted as coffee anymore.

“Those are smart worries. Good head on your shoulders.” MJ nodded and drank her coffee. “My boys say you cook like a dream, and that, I’m always looking for. Most old ladies can’t cook worth a damn.”