Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Skylar

The sound of scratching pulls me from my sleep. I sit up and stretch, pausing when I realize I’m not in my own bed. Glancing around at the artwork on the pale gray walls and the simple blue and white bedding, I recognize Walker’s guest room from the tour he gave me.

I must’ve fallen asleep before the movie was over. Does that mean Walker carried me in here? I throw off the comforter to find my legs bare. My cheeks redden even if he’s not here to witness my embarrassment. If he took the sweatpants off, does that mean he knows I don’t have underwear on? I don’t know whether to be pissed he did it or upset I wasn’t awake to watch him take them off.

The scratching starts up again, so I climb out of the comfy bed with fluffy pillows and the most cloud-like comforter I’ve ever experienced to open the door. Sprocket comes barreling in, jumping on me before leaping onto the bed. He spins and fluffs the sheets until he’s satisfied, and then he plops himself down and promptly closes his eyes.

“Sprocket,” Walker whisper-shouts as he walks down the hall.

I step out into the doorway and point. “He’s in here.”

“Damn. Sorry about that. This is his morning nap space because it gets the best sun.”

“I don’t blame him. Though there’s not much sun today.” Glancing out the window, I see nothing but dark clouds and strong winds blowing snow around. “Did you carry me to bed last night?”

“You fell asleep during the movie.” His eyes catch on my bare legs, and he swallows hard.

I look down at myself and realize how exposed we both are, with me only in his oversized T-shirt and him in nothing but black sweatpants. The sight of his chiseled body sends a jolt of desire through me, every inch of skin covered in new hills and valleys of rippling muscle.

The unmistakable smell of damp wood and earth fills my nose as I catch a glimpse of him. His hair, still wet from the shower, frames his face in dark, tousled locks that only enhance his rugged appearance. But it’s not just his hair that has changed—a thick mustache and beard now cover the lower half of his face, giving him an edge he never had before. Gone are the clean-shaven days of high school and college, replaced with a man who exudes raw masculinity and power.

Now I’m the one swallowing hard as I refocus on the conversation. “I guess you also took the sweatpants off me?”

He has the good sense to look at least a touch sheepish. “Yeah, I thought you’d be more comfortable.”

“Hmm.”

He scratches the back of his neck, and he must be thinking about something that puts a wicked grin on his face because he turns his head to look at me, a brow quirking. “How come you never went commando when we were together?”

I slap his bare chest, but there’s no heat behind it. “I don’t normally, but I don’t have any clean panties.”

“I didn’t perv on you, I promise.”

“I should be a lot more scandalized than I am.”

“Do the kids at that school of yours beat up on you? You have some gnarly bruises on your thighs.”

My mouth goes dry. “Just how close of a look did you get?”

“I promise I didn’t lurk. The second I saw. . . well, you know, I pulled the T-shirt down to preserve your modesty.”

“‘Preserve my modesty?’ In case you don’t remember, I lost my modesty to you in the backseat of your car senior year.” I side-eye him, but my tone is teasing.

My smile falls when he wets his lips and his brown eyes go dark. All joking ceases, and a tension that wasn’t there mere seconds ago fills the air. Before I know what’s happening, he stalks toward me, backing me up against the door jamb. He braces one strong hand on the wall above my head, the other on my hip. “Oh, I remember all right. The way we went at each other like starved beasts, not even bothering to take all our clothes off, is burned into my memory. And sometimes, when I close my eyes, I can still feel how soft your skin was. I can still hear the way you called out my name as you came, can still smell your bergamot perfume, and if I focus real hard, I can still feel your tight heat wrapped around me.”

His intense gaze sears through me, making me squirm under the weight of his stare and heating things up between my thighs. Who is this man? The Walker I knew was gentle, teasing me with dirty talk but always waiting for my clear consent before making a move. This new side of him leaves me breathless and trembling with desire. Damn, I can’t get enough of it.

I’m debating whether to climb him like a tree or slap him for disrespecting my upcoming nuptials when he pushes off the wall and walks away, calm as can be, while I stand there staring, my brain scrambled.

“I know you were hoping to leave today, but the weather shows more accumulation later on. You’re not getting off the mountain for at least another day,” he calls over his shoulder.

That pulls me from my thoughts. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and I nearly choke on the bile that climbs my throat as I chase after him. “No, I don’t think you understand. I can’t stay here. You have to get me back to my rental.”

“I don’t think you understand. Unless you’re gonna sled down the mountain, you ain’t leaving.” Walker leans against the kitchen counter, lifting a steaming mug to his lips.

I wrap my arms around myself, wondering how I got myself into this mess and how the hell I’ll get out of it. The only reason Klutch has allowed me to be gone this long is because he’s surrounded by Broken Rebels from chapters around the country in town to not only vote in a new president but also for the wedding. With all those eyes on him, he’s on his best behavior.

Since Dad’s death, Klutch has been acting president, and it’s assumed he’ll officially be voted in. On top of that, he’s marrying the club’s princess—me—the day after the vote. So, from now until the wedding, the Broken Rebels have twice the reason to party. Klutch’s nights will be spent getting hammered and fucking his way through all the patch pussy he can get his hands on. And I don’t feel even a sliver of jealousy.

No, what I feel is fear. Fear he won’t take no for an answer once we’re married. Fear he’ll give me a disease if he refuses to wrap it up. Fear I’ll eventually birth his heir he’ll raise to be just like him, continuing the sick cycle.

If I didn’t have a metaphorical gun to my head, I’d leave him in a heartbeat. Since that’s not possible, I’ll stick to my plan. If only Mother Nature could get with the program because Klutch won’t allow me to be gone much longer. A shiver runs down my spine thinking about the threats he spewed after I told him I was snowed in. Apparently, he’s embarrassed his bride-to-be isn’t at his side so he can show me off. It’s all about image to him; he wants everyone to envy him and fear him in equal measure.

I must’ve zoned out for too long because the next thing I know, Walker is in front of me, his hands on my elbows as he crouches to get my attention. “Where’d you go, Sunny?” he asks, using his old nickname for me. It’s not very original, but I loved it because he was the only one who called me that. “You okay?”

“Fine,” I say, even though my hands are shaking and dread has settled over me like a thick blanket, suffocating and dark.

“No, you’re not. Come sit down.” With a hand on my lower back, he leads me to the ugly recliner. I don’t know why he keeps insisting I sit on this thing. Once I’m sitting, he lowers himself onto the ottoman and spreads his legs wide, caging my knees. His warm, calloused hands rest on my outer thighs. If I were paying attention, I’d notice the zing of attraction from his touch, but I’m too lost in my own thoughts to fully appreciate the situation. “Now, tell me what’s going on.”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s obviously something big going on here. You’re scared, and the longer you have to be here, the more afraid you become. Combined with your reaction to those bruises I saw, along with everything I know about your fiancé ”—he spits the word like a curse—“it doesn’t take a genius to know what’s going on here.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Against my will, tears leak from the corners of my eyes, and my nose starts to run.

“Bullshit. Quit the lying and tell me.”

What can I even say? The truth? My dad died and left the only thing I love in this world, my house, to Klutch, and the only way I can get it back is if I follow through with this sham of a marriage. There’s no good way to spin it to make him understand that if I walked away, all my memories of Mom would be gone. All the times we danced in the kitchen making dinner, ran through the sprinklers in the yard on hot summer days, put together puzzles on the coffee table as we watched movies from the eighties—all of that will be gone. And then there were the final days when a hospital bed took the place of the dining room table, and I sat by her side, soaking up every last word of wisdom she had for me before she died.

How can I possibly walk away from that?

I draw in a breath, only to realize there’s no air in the room. Pain shoots through my chest, and my vision narrows to pinpoints. My head doesn’t feel like it’s attached to my head, and holy shit, I can’t breathe. I’m vaguely aware of someone calling my name, but it’s echoey and distant. I can only vaguely hear over the loud gasping sound I make each time I try to suck in some oxygen. I claw at my chest and throat, desperate for a full breath until, without warning, darkness takes over, and I fade into nothingness.

“Sky! Fuck, fuck, fuck. Sweetheart, snap out of it, please! Shit.”

Is that Walker? He sounds so worried and scared. I wonder why. Maybe I can help. Blinking my eyes open, I see a vaulted ceiling with exposed wooden beams and a wagon wheel chandelier that has Edison lights hanging from it. It should be ugly, but it’s actually kind of cool.

“There you go. Open those beautiful eyes for me. You know what a sucker I am for your green eyes. How many times did you get what you want just by giving me a look? Do you remember?”

I smile faintly because I do remember. When he wanted pizza but I wanted Thai, I’d bat my lashes at him a few times and an hour later, I was eating Pad Thai. It worked with movies too.

“That’s it. Just like that. Now, can you look at me?” he asks.

I turn my head, and his look of concern has me worried. “What’s wrong?”

“You just passed out. Jesus, I thought you were dying and we’re up here on this hill with no way to get down.” He runs a hand through his already mussed hair, letting me know it’s not the first time he has done it today.

“Passed out?” I’m somehow on the sofa with him kneeling in front of me. I sit up, and a damp washcloth falls off my forehead and lands on my lap. “Why would I pass out?”

Walker slides onto the sofa behind me and hefts me onto his lap as if I weigh nothing, holding me as if I’m the most precious thing in the world to him. “I don’t know, but I’ve never been more scared in all my life. Has this ever happened before?”

“No.” I rest my head on his shoulder, still feeling a little woozy and unsure.

“Don’t you ever fucking do that again.” His tone has a threatening edge that would’ve made me laugh if I wasn’t still confused and disoriented. He pushes my unruly curls off my face. “I think it was a panic attack.”

Then I remember what we were talking about right before I lost consciousness. Fuck, I need to figure out how to get off this mountain. There has to be someone with a vehicle that can get up here. I refuse to believe I’m stuck because I refuse to accept the consequences of being found out. I move to stand, but he tightens his hold on me, making it impossible to get away.

“Just hang on a minute. You’re still shaking like a leaf, and your breaths are too shallow.” Because I’m no match for his mountain man muscles, he easily turns me until I’m straddling his thighs, our pelvises an appropriate distance away for this to not be sexual. His large paws cup my face and force me to look at him. “Tell me the truth: did he hurt you? Are you in danger?”

Instead of answering, I try to change the subject. “This is a small town, right? So maybe you know someone who has a snowmobile or one of those big plows to come get me?”

He shakes his head, his brows pinched together in concern. This close to him, I can see tiny freckles across the bridge of his nose that his time out in the sun has given him and the nearly imperceptible gold flakes in his brown eyes. God, he’s handsome. “No, there’s no way off until this system moves out.”

His words register, and my mind dismisses the man in front of me, trying to think up a plan B. It’s not like he can find me anyway, right? That’s not a good plan though, because if I don’t get back soon, he’ll start digging. His first stop will be to Dee, and his interrogation tactics will include threats to her family. She won’t hesitate to spill all my secrets, and I wouldn’t even be upset. Her family is more important than my lies.

“Goddamn it, Sky. Tell me what’s going on or I swear to God, the second we can leave this house, I’ll follow you to Bakersfield to find out for myself.”

I search his eyes for any hint of a lie, finding none. Having Walker on Klutch’s home turf would be far worse than him coming here, which means I have to tell him something. “It’s no big deal. It’s just that I didn’t tell Klutch I was married, so he doesn’t know I’m here to have you sign the papers.”

Without missing a beat, he asks the one question I can’t answer. “What will he do if he finds out?” Whatever he sees in my expression tells him all he needs to know as his hands drop to my bare thighs, which reminds me I don’t have pants or panties on.

“Let me up,” I say, needing to get my naked ass off his lap.

“No. Not until you tell me everything.”

“I can’t tell you about fifteen years, Walker.”

One eyebrow lifts. “Give me the bullet points.”

“Remember what my life looked like before you left?” He hums out a “Mmhmm” before I continue. “Well, my life has still looked a lot like that, but add in a job at the preschool I got five years ago, plus moving into my own apartment.”

“Your dad caved and allowed you to work and move out?”

Whenever the discussion about Dad “allowing” me to do things comes up, I feel like a little girl. I guess that’s how he made me feel, like somehow, the fact that I have a vagina made me dumb and unable to navigate life on my own. And he wasn’t that far off, since I believed him. It wasn’t until my twenty-seventh birthday that I was able to wiggle out from under his thumb, and that was only because I accepted Klutch’s proposal, which made me his problem, not Dad’s.

“No. I traded one chauvinistic man for another. The only difference is, the one I’m with now doesn’t care if I work and insisted I have my own place so I wasn’t walking around the clubhouse where other men could hit on me.” I clamp my mouth shut, pissed I let myself reveal even that little amount of my life.

“The fiancé?” I nod, and he shakes his head. “Never understood why you didn’t just leave.”

“There’s nowhere I could’ve gone where he wouldn’t have found me,” I say so quietly, it’s almost a whisper.

“And even though your dad is gone, you still can’t leave because you’re marrying a guy who replaced your dad in your life?”

“I guess you could put it that way.”

“Do you love him?” he asks, and the pain I see in his eyes hurts almost as much as it did the night I left him.

“Walker—”

“I’m a big boy, and we haven’t been together for a long time. So tell me: do you love him?”

If ads affect your reading experience, click here to remove ads on this page.