Thornhill Road (Love Me Tender)

Chapter Ten

When I woke Friday morning, I was on the wrong side of the bed.

I was bewildered by this only until I felt Mustang at my back, his hand resting heavy on my hip.

I remembered the first time I woke up in bed with the man and how I’d snuck away. The last thing I wanted to do was leave him in bed again, but I needed to check my phone—the phone I’d left in my purse while we went at each other after our date.

Only, this time, when I began to carefully roll away from him, his fingers tightened their hold before he grumbled, “Where do you think you’re goin'?”

I smiled, in love with his voice first thing in the morning—low and rumbly from lack of use.

“I need to check my phone, babe. It’s in my purse. I’ll be right back.”

Satisfied with my answer, he gave me another squeeze and then released me.

I found my phone with ease. As I began my return trip to the bed, I saw I had a couple unread text messages, but nothing urgent. I also noted it was a few minutes after eight before I discarded the device on the nightstand I never used and crawled between the sheets with my man.

My man.

The thought made me want to burrow in his chest and stay a while—so I burrowed in his chest, biting down on my lower lip to contain my grin when he immediately engulfed me in his arms.

“Got shit to do today,” he told me, his eyes still closed.

With plenty I’d been neglecting since I left work on Wednesday, I could relate, so I simply replied, “Okay.”

“I’ll make breakfast before I go.”

I reached for his bearded cheek as I said, “Mustang, you don’t have to do that.”

He peeked open one eye and met my gaze. “You gonna eat breakfast if I don’t?”

My smile couldn’t be helped. He’d seen my fridge. It wasn’t always as desolate as it had been the last few days, but I didn’t make a habit of concocting a full spread first thing in the morning.

“Eventually,” I answered honestly, trying to remember if I still had any yogurt left.

He studied me a moment longer, then closed his eye and repeated, “I’ll make breakfast before I go.”

I didn’t argue.

Fifteen minutes later, we got out of bed and Mustang made us eggs and bacon.

My contribution had been the coffee, whereupon I learned my man liked his with two sugars but no cream.

When we were finished eating, he didn’t linger.

I did, however, get a delicious kiss goodbye.

Alone, awake, and not on the clock, I found myself with some real time to process everything that had transpired since I found Mustang on Thornhill Road Wednesday afternoon. It didn’t take long for me to admit I was happy. It all still felt a bit reckless, given the circumstances, but I wanted him, and he wanted me, and I didn’t have any desire to deny either of us.

However, it did seem like a smart idea to get an outside perspective.

I needed to speak with Jenna.

After cleaning up in the kitchen, I headed upstairs for a shower. While I bathed, I thought of the chores I should do and the errands I should run. Mustang and I hadn’t exactly made plans, but I hoped we’d see each other again the next day, which meant I needed to be productive in the present.

As soon as I was out of the shower, I shot Jenna a text.

Best friend emergency. Not life or death. Just can’t wait.

I had time to get dressed and make my bed—with all the pillows this time—before I got a reply.

If you can make it to the hospital, I might be able to take 15 minutes for a coffee break.

I knew right away I was not going to show up at the hospital empty handed, which meant a trip to our favorite coffee shop for two lattes and a chocolate croissant, Jenna’s favorite. Factoring in the time this would take, I was quick to send my reply.

ETA 10:30.

At two minutes past the half hour, I was strolling into the emergency room, looking for Jenna. She spotted me from where she stood behind the nurses’ station, smiled, then waved me over.

“Your timing is perfect. Just give me two minutes,” she insisted.

Two minutes later, each of us with our lattes and Jenna already biting into her croissant, we were headed outside. It was a beautiful morning, and she wanted the fresh air. We found an empty bench and sat.

“Alright, what’s going on? To what do I owe this pleasure?” she asked before taking another bite of her treat.

“Well, you were right about Mustang. He didn’t need my number to get in touch.”

Speaking around her bite, Jenna shielded her mouth and asked, “Mustang? That’s his name?”

“Oh, yeah,” I muttered, having forgotten I’d left that detail out last we spoke. “That’s his road name. His real name is Sully, but he doesn’t like people to call him that. After having spent some time with him, I understand he is one-hundred-percent Wild Stallion. That’s his family, so he’s Mustang.”

“Got it. I’m with you now. So, he got in touch?”

“Mmhmm,” I hummed with a nod. “We’re officially on .”

Jenna lowered her coffee from her lips and smiled.

Before she could say a word, I added, “But you know how I get…”

“You mean, off the deep end after the third date?”

I nodded and said, “I think I met my match.”

Her eyebrows shot up her forehead in excitement. “Yeah?”

“Last night, we were in bed, and he called himself my man . Just like that, he said— you got a man now, sugar, ” I said in a poor imitation of his deep voice.

Jenna’s brow relaxed as her smile stretched into a grin. “He calls you sugar?”

“Jen, focus, that’s not the point. I’m officially in uncharted territory now. I don’t know what to do.”

“Honey, you enjoy the ride.”

I coughed out a laugh, unconsciously squeezing my thighs together. I was already enjoying many rides, and I had the sore bits to prove it. But that wasn’t what I meant.

“I’m talking about Ed. I didn’t go looking for his son thinking any of this would happen. Now Mustang’s calling himself my man—which, by the way, is my exact brand of crazy—and it feels unfair somehow.

“There are still parts of their story I haven’t pieced together yet, but I’m coming around to the idea that there’s a reason Ed is alone in that house. He was not the greatest father or husband. Mustang is not entirely unjustified in his refusal to speak to the man, and I’m not holding my breath waiting for him to change his mind. But do I tell him?”

Jenna thought for a moment. “Well, I wouldn’t tell him you’re sleeping together. I would tread lightly. Like you said, you’ve still only got part of the story, and it sounds like Mustang’s side. Not saying that he’s wrong,” she was quick to add. “Just saying—you didn’t go looking for Mustang at Ed’s request.”

I knit my eyebrows together in concern. “I had the best intentions.”

“I know you did. Don’t beat yourself up over it, either. Now, you have to give it time to play out.”

“Yeah,” I murmured noncommittally.

“So, when do I get to meet this Mustang?” asked Jenna, playfully kicking at my leg.

The thought of introducing the two of them instantly brightened my mood.

“When’s your next Saturday night off?”

“I don’t know—but I’ll find out.”

Just then, my phone rang from inside my purse. I was quick to reach for it and found a patient was calling. That could only mean one thing.

“I’m going to have to go.”

Jenna needed no further explanation. “Go. Thanks for my breakfast. I’ll text you when I’m free.”

I slid my thumb across the screen, picked up the call, then jammed my phone between my ear and my shoulder. I waved at Jenna as I greeted my caller, then stood and hurried toward my car.

Friday wasn’t as personally productive as I’d hoped it would be.

My unexpected patient visit lasted several hours. By the time I was finished, I managed to squeeze in a couple quick errands before I ran home to throw together a late dinner, and then I was right back out the door for my night shift.

I hadn’t had the time to think of what to tell Ed, so I didn’t tell him anything during my visit. This was made easier given he was usually prone to be less chatty at my night drop-ins.

Since I didn’t have time for a nap before my shift, I fell into bed almost as soon as I got home.

My sheets smelled like leather, fresh air, and pine—and I went to sleep smiling.

I woke naturally Saturday afternoon and immediately reached for my phone. I had a text from Jenna, but no other notifications. I rolled onto my back and frowned up at the ceiling, allowing myself a moment to wallow in my disappointment.

I hadn’t heard from Mustang since he left the previous morning.

Things between us were moving fast, but in some ways totally out of order.

We’d slept together three times before we exchanged numbers. Even though we’d gone on a couple dates and shared a handful of meals, neither of us had ever texted or called the other. That said, I didn’t know what it meant to go more than twenty-four hours without hearing from my man—but I knew I didn’t like it.

Fully aware I was equally culpable for our shared silence, I unlocked my screen, searched for his contact info, and started a text thread. I hesitated, wishing to say something less lame than hi . Finally, I decided to simply ask what I wanted to know.

Do I get to see you today?

His reply came less than thirty seconds later.

Depends. You ever gonna come downstairs?

I gasped and sat upright.

He’s here?

'Used your spare key. Found it in the first drawer I looked. Not a safe place to hide a key, sugar. Don’t worry. Found a better spot for it.'

I’d never asked him where that better spot was.

Now I understood—it was on his keyring.

It probably made me certifiable, but this realization brought a grin to my face.

I jumped out of bed, hurried for my door, and swung it wide open.

Immediately, the smell of food hit me, and my stomach growled.

I already had all the motivation I needed to get my happy butt down the stairs, but the promise of food was a welcome bonus.

When I stepped foot into my kitchen, Mustang was there in his usual attire—only, rather than a full tee, he had on a white tank top underneath his kutte, a subtle difference that made my sex clench. That, plus he was filling a plate with something that smelled delicious.

“Hi,” I breathed, still taking him in.

He cut his eyes at me, quirked an eyebrow and asked, “That’s the best you got?”

I was pretty sure before, but I was certain then—I’d definitely met my match.

Fighting a huge smile, I closed the distance between us, then snaked my arms under his kutte and around his waist as I leaned into him and semi-repeated, “Hi, babe,” before I pressed up on my toes and kissed the underside of his bearded chin.

The hand not holding my plate reached down until he had a palm full of my butt.

“Better.”

No longer hiding my smile, I asked, “What’s for lunch?”

“Bone-in chicken thighs and sauteed green beans. Was going to make sandwiches, but don’t know what we’re doin’ for dinner. Likely will involve bread. Had the time, so we’re eatin’ chicken now.”

I liked that. All of that. A lot .

I must have said as much with my face, because Mustang’s next words were, “Like that look in your eyes, baby, but food’s ready now. It’s time to eat. I’ll fuck you after.”

I shivered in response.

He felt it and grinned.

The grin was too much to resist, so I let him go, turned to grab the plate in his hand, snagged some silverware, and headed for the table.

“Are you going to be here every time I wake up?” I asked as I sat.

He filled a second plate and informed me, “Got MK tomorrow ‘til Wednesday.”

I nodded as my brain made quick work of his answer.

I’d snuck out of his bed the previous Sunday, and I didn’t see him again until Wednesday afternoon. I didn’t see him because he had his daughter.

This made sense.

I also gathered that he hadn’t said no to my question, only that he needed to focus on his fatherly duties the next few days. I interpreted this to mean next Thursday, he would let himself into my house and be there when I woke up.

I looked forward to that.

I also couldn’t help but wonder when I might get to meet his Mary-Kate.

I’d never dated anyone with a child before. Obviously, it wasn’t a deal breaker—but there were boundaries when it came to kids I’d never before traversed.

As if he was in my head, after Mustang dropped into his now usual spot, he asked, “You free Monday night?”

I picked up my fork and murmured, “Yes.”

“We’ll go to dinner. MK likes Railyard. Their food’s not total shit.”

Nervous excitement sparked in my belly as I watched him take his first bite.

“Are you sure? If it’s too soon, I’ll under—”

“Tess?” he interrupted.

We held each other’s gaze, and I said nothing as he finished chewing.

“You like where this is goin’?”

I nodded my head yes .

“You plan on bailin’ any time soon?”

I shook my head no .

“Then Monday night, I’m takin’ my girl and my woman to Railyard for dinner.”

“Okay,” I agreed.

My stomach reminded me of the food I’d yet to try. I dropped my attention to my plate and filled my fork with my first bite.

“You got shit you need to do today?”

The chicken was good. The green beans even more so.

It took me a second to think of the things I needed to do.

“Uh, I should probably do a couple loads of laundry, and I need to go to the grocery store.”

“Let me rephrase that. You got shit you need to do today that can’t wait ‘til tomorrow? Fridge is already full, sugar.”

I stopped chewing, tilted my head in confusion and asked, “I’m sorry, what?”

“Was getting old, havin’ to stop by the store or my house to get grub. You’re stocked up. Anything you don’t like, you let me know. I miss somethin’, you let me know that, too.”

I had to force my jaw to move so I could finish chewing and swallow my bite.

It was proving to be a consistent challenge to eat and converse with Mustang at the same time.

“Mustang, I can afford my own groceries.”

“Seen your shoes, Tess. Know you can. But if you’re not workin’ you’re sleepin', and if you’re not sleepin’ you’re doin’ what you got to do or you’re with me. Seeing as I prefer you with me, and I had some time on my hands, I checked off an item on your to-do list.”

He finished his statement as if it was nothing, then took another bite.

I was too distracted by all he’d said to follow suit.

“That’s—that’s really sweet,” I murmured.

Speaking around his food, he said, “Get used to it, sugar.”

I was a little afraid of getting used to something that seemed too good to be true.

“I’ve never met a badass biker so… domesticated .”

Almost as soon as the words fell out of my mouth, I wished I could shovel them back in and swallow them whole. That was because, as soon as they landed, I learned what Mustang looked like when he was annoyed. While it might have been a look I could appreciate when directed at someone who wasn’t me—or, better yet, pointed at someone on behalf of me—when that irritated, hazel-blue stare was aimed my way, it made me want to tuck tail.

“Man’s got to eat. Got a kid, and I’ve got to feed her, too. Now I got a woman with a whack schedule which means, I want to see her, I’ve got to do my part. Not a dick, baby, and I’ve got more than shit for brains.” His gaze softened a little before he demanded, “Now eat. You ain’t got shit to do, we’ll get in a round of cardio before we head to the clubhouse. Workin’ the bar tonight, but the lineup is stacked. You can hang. You get tired before I’m done, you can pass out in my room at the clubhouse.”

I sort of didn’t regret my comment anymore. Mostly because he’d admitted he intended to do his part to make sure we’d see each other in spite of my whack schedule, and I liked that.

“Okay,” I conceded.

He filled his fork again and I just sat there, replaying all the nice things he’d said since I woke up and came downstairs.

“Baby,” he called gently.

I offered him my undivided attention, and he gave me a half-smile.

“Eat.”

Nodding, I proceeded to do as I was told.

Twenty minutes later, Mustang got my heart rate up.

We went one round. On the couch. I came twice.

I was beginning to wonder if he was more than he appeared.

Perhaps he was a sex god disguised as a badass biker.

Or maybe he was merely a generous lover who got off on getting me off.

I was happy either way.

Because either way—he was mine.

After our highly pleasurable workout, I got in the shower while Mustang got dressed and then kicked back in front of my TV so he could wait for me to get ready. In an effort not to take forever, while I bathed, I mentally sorted through my closet, piecing together an outfit that could transition from an afternoon at the clubhouse to a night at the bar.

By the time I’d dried myself off, I knew I was going with my fitted, single-shoulder, burgundy, sleeveless top with my light-wash, high-waisted, wide-leg distressed jeans. They had a hole in each knee, and a cut across the left thigh.

I didn’t have a pair of designer heels that would work exceptionally well with the look, but I did have some nude, peep-toe, booties with three-inch chunky heels I liked.

I kept Mustang waiting forty minutes, and then I finally descended the stairs, ready to go. After a really hot, greedy kiss—Mustang’s way of telling me he thought I was worth the wait—we were on our way to the compound.

It was the shortest distance we’d ever ridden together, but I thought that was for the best. When we parked in front of the clubhouse, I didn’t feel wild with desire—just a manageable amount.

Then a thrill danced up my spine when Mustang grabbed my hand possessively and led me inside.

The door was barely closed behind us before a little ball of energy came racing our direction. A boy, no older than five or six, crashed into Mustang’s leg and greeted, “Uncle Stang! Where’s MK?”

“Hey, Otto,” said Mustang, rustling the boy’s hair. “She’s not with me today. Next time.”

Momentarily disappointed, he frowned and said, “Okay.” The very next second, he ran back across the room. He stopped at the pool tables, where two teenage boys were playing a round. He stood beside another boy, who looked just a couple years older, and both of them watched on in vague interest.

“Hey, Uncle Mustang.”

This greeting had come from the bar, where a girl sat cross-legged on the counter, reading a book in her lap. She wasn’t quite a teenager, but she looked to be well on her way. She also looked an awful lot like Mustache—sans mustache, of course—who sat in a chair at the bar next to her.

“Hey, Marlowe,” greeted Mustang with a chin lift.

In approximately thirty seconds, I’d learned two very fascinating things.

First, the clubhouse appeared to be kid friendly when the sun was up.

Second, Bull and Mustang weren’t the only Stallions with kids.

Mustang escorted me further into the room, toward the others. There were two men behind the bar, and another bellied up to it with a woman occupying the seat next to him. Bull and Winnie were close by, Bull on the couch with a bottle of beer in his hand, and Winnie on its arm.

When Winnie turned and saw me, she smiled. “Hey. Good to see you again.”

I returned the sentiment, then Mustang did a quick round of introductions.

“You know Bull, Winnie, and Wrangler. That’s Marlowe, his oldest,” he said, whereupon I learned Mustache was Wrangler . I glanced at his kutte and also learned he held the office of Enforcer.

That wasn’t at all intimidating…

Then again, I knew him to be not scary but flirty.

“That’s Buck and Maverick,” he continued, pulling me from my thoughts. The two men behind the bar dipped their chins at me. “And this is Twister and Lyla.”

Twister, whose kutte identified him as the Vice President of the Gillette chapter, raised his bottle of beer, but Lyla looked me up and down and barely contained a sneer. I wasn’t sure what that was about, but it didn’t go unnoticed how she’d been introduced as neither Twister’s woman nor his ol’ lady.

“Hi,” I said with a blanket wave. “I’m Tess.”

As soon as I said it, Mustang let go of my hand and draped his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side. A zing shot through my belly as I smiled up at him.

He’d just made a statement without speaking a word, and it felt good.

Really good.

“Over there are Miles, Jett, Otto, and Axel,” added Winnie, speaking of the boys. “Axel is Wrangler’s youngest. The rest are the hellions I was telling you about.”

“Don’t worry, darlin’. We won’t test you on names until next week,” teased Wrangler.

I laughed as Buck asked, “Somethin’ to drink?”

“No, thank you. I’m good for now.”

Maverick’s lips curled slowly into a smirk as he looked between Mustang and me.

I noticed his Road Captain patch and wondered what that rank entailed. He was wearing a backwards trucker style baseball cap over his long, curly hair. It was grown out halfway down his back, and it was beautiful. I was sure Jenna would kill for a fraction of his hair’s texture.

“Interesting,” he muttered, folding his arms across his chest.

“Won’t last long if you don’t know how to party, sweetie,” piped in Lyla snidely.

“Don’t be thick, sheep. It’s unbecoming. You see whose arm she’s on,” drawled Wrangler.

Lyla rolled her eyes as Twister chuckled.

I was on the verge of an explanatory reply when I felt the vibration of Mustang’s phone from inside his front pocket. He let me go in order to reach for it, then cursed under his breath when he saw who was calling. As he answered, he turned his back on the group.

“Hey, baby. You okay?”

I tried not to react to him calling someone else baby , but I still stood frozen as I stared at his profile while I waited with bated breath for his next words.

“Okay. Stay in mommy’s room, princess. Daddy’ll be there in a bit.”

I let out a quiet sigh at the same time I felt all my organs turn to mush.

Mary-Kate was his princess.

My man was hard on the outside and sweet on the inside.

I loved that.

I barely had a chance to recover from my reaction before Mustang turned and I caught a glimpse of his hardened features. Whatever warm and fuzzy feelings I’d felt a second ago were gone in an instant.

“We gotta go,” he told me. He then looked to Winnie and said, “Might need a favor tonight.”

“Whatever you need, Mustang. You know that,” she assured him.

He jerked his chin in acknowledgment then grabbed my hand and started for the door.

I didn’t know what was going on, but I knew from the grip he had around my fingers it was not good.

I didn’t ask any questions.

I merely followed his lead.