He thought my dress was cute.
And my shoes were sexy.
Wow.
“I had my son with me and I was in an uncertain situation,” I stated, feeling the need to explain my first reaction to him, which unfortunately he didn’t miss. “Any man who approached us when we had our flat—”
“I hear you. I get you,” he interrupted me quietly. “You still did it because I’m a biker.”
That was true, regrettably.
So there was nothing else to say but what he deserved to hear.
So I said it.
“I’m sorry.”
“ ’Preciated. Now, we done?”
His curtness was both annoying and upsetting.
Further, I wasn’t done.
“I don’t judge you,” I told him. “Or your people. They’re all very nice.”
“Glad you think that way seein’ as you’re adopted. Now, we done?”
No, I wasn’t done.
“As lovely as you’re all being, I’m uncomfortable about taking help from people I don’t know.”
“Get over it.”
I waited but that was it.
Get over it.
“I’m not sure I can,” I shared.
“Try harder,” he replied.
I stared at him.
Then I glared.
He watched one turn into the other and the second it did, he muttered, “Fuck, we’re not done.”
“No we aren’t!” I yelled. “Your people practically bought me a new car and got me free legal counsel!”
“Carissa, do you know what a retainer is?” he asked.
“Yes,” I snapped.
“Then you know this Club gave that firm a shit ton of money to be at our service. Luckily, we don’t need them often, so they sit on our money and do fuck-all. It’s no skin off our nose and actually is a good thing they’re doin’ somethin’ to earn that pay.”
This made sense so I let that go, for now.
“You shouldn’t curse,” I admonished sharply.
His head jerked back. “Seriously?”
“I’m a lady. It’s rude.”
“You are a lady but I’m a biker and I do what the fuck I want,” he shot back.
“Do you speak like that in front of Tyra?”
“You’ve known her a day, Butterfly. She’s got a mouth on her too.”
Women often cursed so he was probably right.
I tried a different tack. “Do you speak like that in front of your mother?”
His face went hard and he pierced me direct through the heart with his reply.
“Don’t have one. Never did. She took off before I could crawl. So no. I don’t. ’Cause I never got the chance.”
I fell silent, feeling it deeply, but not believing it because I couldn’t fathom it.
Travis was scooting around like a crazy boy. Which would mean Joker’s mother left before he was Travis’s age.
“How could that be?” I whispered.
“You know,” he replied bitingly, uncrossing one arm and jabbing a finger my way, but his next words caused no harm. Far from it. “That right there is why Chaos has thrown down for you. That look on your face. Those words outta your mouth.” He crossed his arm back on his chest. “You got no clue how a woman could do that to her kid. We know that your kid needs that kind of woman in his life. Fuckin’ let it go and fuckin’ let us help, for fuck’s sake.”
“That’s three f-words in one sentence,” I said quietly.
He threw out both hands. “Who gives a fuck?”
His response was funny and I wanted to laugh. I really did.
And I didn’t remember the last time I laughed at anything that wasn’t something that Travis did.
“Now, are we fuckin’ done?” he asked.
“No,” I whispered my answer.
“What now?” he clipped, planting his hands on his hips.
I watched him do this.
His knuckles were all scabbed. But his fingers were long, not graceful, but handsome. They were a working man’s hands. They’d be rough. I could even see grease stains around the nail beds.
Something about that caused something to happen inside me.
My focus shifted from his hands to his crotch. His jeans were faded. The area around his crotch more faded.
Up I went to a black belt with silver rivets in it that had seen some wear, the length beyond the clasp dangling from a belt loop to the side in a supple way, the leather not close to stiff.
Up his flat belly to his wide chest and broad shoulders and bulging arms.
And up to his long black hair that looked thick, messy, had a lot of wave and brushed his shoulders. His beard wasn’t bushy, it was trimmed, but it was about two days away from being unkempt.
He was tall.
He was annoyed.
I felt the latter because he was the kind of man whose mood altered a room and I understood this because I was right then experiencing it. But I also knew it wasn’t just that or that we were the only ones in the room and having the conversation that was making him annoyed so of course I’d be feeling it.
It was him. He had that kind of power behind his personality.
I shifted my eyes to his.
Steel. A strange flat color that seemed impenetrable.
And suddenly I had a new dream. One that didn’t involve motherhood, cookies, doing laundry, and being a soccer mom.
One that centered around penetrating the impenetrable.
“So? What?” he prompted irately.
At his words, I flew across the room.
He had the chance to go back on a boot but that was all he had before my body slammed into his, my hands went to either side of his head and I lifted up on tiptoe as I yanked him down.
Then I pressed my lips hard against his.
A breath later, something strange happened.
Strange and wondrous.
His arms closed around me, and if I could think of anything, I’d worry about the state of my ribs.
But I couldn’t think of anything because his tongue spiked into my mouth and my world changed.
My entire world.
I didn’t have a dead sister.
I didn’t have a dead mother.
I didn’t have a lonely father looking after his mother, who was addled with Alzheimer’s disease.
I didn’t have an ex-husband, who I once loved who I thought would cherish and protect me and help me build my dream, but now was making my life a misery and trying to take my son away from me.
I had this.
All of it. All the biker named Joker gave me by holding me so tight it was a pain that hurt so good and who was invading my mouth with his tongue in a way that stated clearly he could do it for a lifetime and never get enough.