The Biker and the Loner (Oil and Water #3)- S. Ann Cole Page 0,54

hold his attention for a lifetime, but I'm not delusional. I know this thing, whatever it is, has a shelf life.

That doesn't mean I'm not taking advantage of it and enjoying every second it lasts, though.

He's tender, except for when he's rough. He's attentive, except for when he's a jerk. He's caring, except for when he's annoyingly bossy. He's spectacular in bed, except for when he's...nah, he's always spectacular in bed. No exceptions.

We've pretty much settled into an easy life together here in Opal Meadows. I’d expected a bit of awkwardness with acclimatizing to each other’s quirks and being in each other’s space at first, but there was none of that. Probably because Scratch's pretty much handed me full control of the house and lets me have my way.

For instance, we're currently sleeping on a pink unicorn comforter and pillowcases that I bought last week. When he came home and saw it, he’d just arched his brow at me and asked, "That shit makes you happy?"

I'd responded with an enthusiastic nod.

"Good," he replied, then stripped and went for a shower. And that was that.

I'm happy because he allows me to do whatever makes me feel good. He’s even stopped sweating about me going out to hang with Isaac. According to him, he trusts me implicitly, just not Isaac, but that most of all, he knows how much it means to me to have my freedom.

Also, he's a super easy boyfriend—not that I've ever had a boyfriend before to measure him up against. But going from most women’s relationship woes, with the carping and whining I’ve overheard, I always assumed boyfriends were unreasonable headaches. Relationships had sounded exhausting, so I never longed to be in one. But so far, dating Scratch is a breeze. As long as he's fed—with good food, sex, and a well-rolled joint—he’s good. Like, that's it.

Sure, he can be a bit macho and dominant sometimes, but I love that side of him. That's the side that turns me on the most.

Once, when we were having dinner out, I told him he was an easy boyfriend, and his response was, "I'm not an easy boyfriend, Peach. You're just a damn good woman. Need for nothing with you. You take care of your man, real good."

But I disagree. It's all him. My real good man, who takes real good care of me.

And who I'm hopelessly falling in love with.

I reach out to brush my fingertips against his growing beard, then quickly yank my hand back. Gah! I want to touch him so bad right now, kiss him, lay on top of him...

Shrinking back against my pillow, I try falling asleep. Fifteen minutes later, I realize it's futile and decide to read a book instead. I fetch my tablet from the nightstand drawer, sit back against the headboard, and navigate to my Kindle app. But the security system app next to it distracts me.

Immediately, I’m hit with a pang of guilt. I haven’t checked on Kathy in a while. Around six weeks ago, I contacted Liza, Kathy’s sister. I told them Kathy was getting better and I couldn’t do it on my own. That they needed to get more involved. Get her into rehab. Whatever they needed to do to breathe life into her again. A week later, Liza and their mother were in Denver. They said they would try convincing her to move back home. And I left them to it.

It was a week later that I received an email from Liza informing me that they’d gone back home since Kathy wouldn’t accept their help. The she’d physically abused them, and they didn’t have time for her “theatrics” as they had “more important affairs to get back to.” The following morning, I went by the house to check on her and she threw a wine bottle at my head, furious at me for calling her family. She called me evil, a slut, an ungrateful bitch, and wished starvation and poverty on me.

Done with the pattern of verbal, emotional, and physical abuse, I left and decided to keep my distance, but still checked on her through the security feed. If her own flesh and blood wouldn’t stand for it, why should I? They barely even spent a week trying. I spent thirteen freaking years.

Wracking my brain, I try to remember the last time I checked on her.

I've been so blissfully happy in my new life with Scratch that somewhere along the line, I forgot about her. Stopped thinking about her.