The Biker and the Loner (Oil and Water #3)- S. Ann Cole Page 0,52
oxygen for me right now. A reason, where I never had one before. She just might be it for me."
"She probably is, but..." He leans in, forearms on the table. "Don't know if you’ve figured it out by now, but she's got some shit going on at home. She’s never told me what it is, but it used to mess with her head in a bad way."
Blowing out a breath, I pick at the label on my bottle. "I know what it is. Can't tell you, but she's staying with me now. Though I don't know for how long, ‘cause like you said, that shit’s got her volatile." I give him a meaningful jerk of the head. "If it comes to it, I'll have to take care of that 'shit' myself."
He gets my meaning and nods. "And I'd be happy to take care of it with you."
I grunt, hoping it doesn't have to come to that.
"Hang on,” I start on an unrelated matter, a thought triggered by what he said about Toni earlier. “Was Toni really ‘on the fence’ about selling the house, or were you guys keeping it specifically for me? You know, so I’d have somewhere to live once your ‘prayers’ were answered?”
“Um…” The look on his face tells me I’ve hit the nail on the head. He checks his watch. “Well, look at that. My lunch hour’s over. Gotta go, brother. Thanks for lunch.”
The fucker is up and out of the restaurant before I can even think to launch my beer bottle at his head.
Toni and I will be having words real soon.
~
After another long, energy-leeching day of putting time in with the club, I’m tired and hungry and missing my woman. I haven't heard from her since I left this morning, but it feels like it's been longer. Sent her a couple of messages throughout the day, but she’s yet to respond to any of them. Feels like a brick’s been sitting on my stomach for the past eight hours.
It’s not until I pull up to our home and see her dad’s Rover in the driveway that I realize what’s had me so uneasy and missing her all day—that she’d run back to Cherry Hills Village.
As I dismount my motorcycle and trudge up the driveway, I spot Cookie on the steps of her porch, watering her hanging plants.
Flipping my keys around my finger, I tell her, "You’ve got a big mouth, you know that, woman?"
"Yup, I do," she admits without apology, a blunt tucked in the corner of her mouth. "I spill a lot of truths. Which one are you mad about today?"
With a chuckle, I shake my head and leave her where she's at. A delicious aroma hits me as soon as I open the door.
I dumped my keys and helmet on the side table and jaunt down the short hall until I spot her in the kitchen across the expansive open-plan space, cooking up a storm while Spanish music spills from a small Bluetooth speaker on the island.
She doesn't notice me yet, so I prop my shoulder to the wall and watch her. Her hot-pink sleeveless crop-top and white shorts cling to her curves like a second skin, her long, inky-black hair pulled back in a low ponytail, gold hoops dangling from her ears.
She’s truly the most beautiful, voluptuous, downright aesthetically perfect woman I’ve ever seen. She’s it. She’s so it.
If she'll allow it, this is what I want for the rest of my life. To come home to her, in our kitchen, looking like a dream as she gyrates her hips to songs I don't understand while preparing dinner for our family.
It’s damn near inconceivable that Leyana Oliveros is even here with me right now. It had never seemed possible. I've wanted her for as long as I’ve known her. Always. But not only did she attach herself to Grunt like Velcro, I knew she was far out of my league and could do much, much better than a piece of shit like me.
Having her the way I do now is nothing short of a miracle. And I’m scared shitless to lose her.
Pushing off from the wall, I stalk through the living room.
Her head whips up from where she's chopping okras on a cutting board and she gives me the biggest, happiest grin.
She’s happy.
To see me.
And damn if it doesn’t shoot straight to my heart, leaving me all whipped and melted inside. This stunning, amazing, flawless creature is happy to see me. Me.