Chapter 7 #2
Barrett shoots me a wink, and I look away, a blush creeping up my neck. Don’t get sucked into the nice and funny biker shtick. This is for Syd’s benefit and Syd’s benefit only. If I keep that in mind, this situation has a real possibility of working out.
A week after moving into the house, I’m sitting at the kitchen table, looking at the want ads on my computer. We bought most everything we needed the day we moved in. It took the beds and couches a few days to arrive, even with Barrett putting a rush order on the furniture.
Syd was wearing the biggest smile I’d ever seen on her face the day we bought everything.
If she showed more than a passing interest in something, Barrett added it to the cart.
It’s more than she ever had at her mom’s or my apartment, considering I lived in a one-bedroom, and her bed was my old couch.
When everything was delivered and Syd arranged her room just how she wanted, she fell back on her queen-size mattress and released a long sigh.
“I love it. Thank you so much,” she told Barrett, who was standing in the doorway. He wore a proud smile, and once again, a little knot formed at the base of my throat at how happy he made my niece.
Every day that passes softens me a little more to the biker.
But that’s what I wanted, right? If I carry the resentment around, Sydney won’t give him a chance, and I wouldn’t have a place to live in Shine.
I’m so damn proud of how my niece has been handling all the changes.
I just hope it doesn’t blow up in all of our faces.
“What are you looking at?”
I jump at Barrett’s voice from behind me. I’d been lost in my own thoughts while staring at my computer screen.
“Job listings. There doesn’t seem to be much of a need for an art teacher around here,” I reply, my lips turned down in a frown.
“You don’t have to work.”
“Um, yeah, I do. There’s this little thing called bills. People tend to get grumpy if they’re not paid every month.”
I crane my head back and find Barrett in nothing but a pair of low-slung pajama pants, shirtless. All of his tattoos and muscles are on full display. His hair is mussed from sleep—as though he just rolled out of bed and didn’t so much as run his hands through it.
Holy hell, the man has a six—no, eight—pack, and the waist of his pants sits low enough that I can clearly see the defined V of muscle that disappears into his pants.
Quickly, I turn my head back to my computer and swallow hard.
My mind may still have reservations about the man behind me, but my body is reacting like a fucking treacherous harlot.
Shit.
That’s not good.
Barrett walks around me to the coffeepot, pulls down a new mug, then fills his cup. He turns and holds the pot up silently, asking if I’d like a refill. I shake my head, and he puts it back on the maker before opening the fridge and pulling out my bottle of caramel creamer.
“I thought you said, and I quote, ‘I drink my coffee black. I don’t need any of that frou-frou shit,’” I say in a deep voice, mimicking his low baritone.
“First off”—he holds up his index finger—“that was a terrible impression of me. And second, I obviously didn’t know what I was missing. This shit is delicious.” Barrett pours a healthy amount into his coffee and takes a long sip, smacking his lips together when he pulls the mug from his lips.
I shake my head and resume my job search. Shine isn’t exactly a bustling metropolis, so jobs seem to be a little scarce for someone with my credentials.
“I mean it, pup. You don’t have to work. I can cover all the bills here.”
My hackles rise slightly at the nickname he refuses to give up calling me.
Not as much as it did a week ago, but it’s still a reminder that he considers me a little puppy dog that should do his bidding.
Honestly, I don’t think he even realizes how it makes me feel all these years after he used it the first time.
Barrett seems perfectly content to let the past go.
I look up from the screen in front of me, and Barrett is casually scratching at his tattooed chest while waiting for my response.
The way he leans against the counter, shirtless with his muscular chest and abs out in the open, is a little off-putting.
Part of me wants to tell him to go put a shirt on, and the other part decidedly doesn’t. That part needs to shut the hell up.
“I’m uncomfortable not making a financial contribution to the household. I’ve had a job since I lived on my own,” I finally reply.
His eyebrows rise as he sips his caramel-flavored coffee. “Really? I thought for sure you had a trust fund you were living off, or maybe Daddy Fuller was footing the bill.”
An offended huff of air pushes past my lips.
“Of course you would think that.” I lean back in my chair and cross my arms over my chest. “The majority of my trust doesn’t come to me for another year, and the small allowance I got usually went to whatever Syd needed that my sister didn’t pay for.
I’ve saved a pretty good portion, but it’s nothing I can live off indefinitely.
I work for my money, Barrett. I’ve never lived off anyone, and I’m not about to start now. ”
Something twinkles in his hazel eyes, and if I’m not mistaken, it’s something akin to respect.
“Okay then. How about bartending?” he asks.
My eyebrows draw together. “I did that in college when I turned twenty-one.” Those were a pretty fun couple of years actually.
Back when Samantha had her shit together.
Back when I wasn’t waiting for the other shoe to drop at any second.
Back when I wasn’t waiting for a phone call that she needed a sitter.
Or money for the weekend because she’d run out, and it was going to be another week before she got paid.
“I’ll talk to Ozzy. Jude was saying that he thinks Lucy should quit working while she’s pregnant, so that leaves us down a bartender at Thorn and Thistle.”
“Why doesn’t he want her working while she’s pregnant? Is it a rough crowd or something?”
The small amount of time I’ve spent in Shine doesn’t exactly lend itself to the idea that it’s an unsafe town. Just the opposite, but I also haven’t ventured out to get a feel for the nightlife.
Barrett laughs. “No, the crowd is mostly regulars who like to have a relaxed place to drink and have fun. They know who owns the bar, and most have always remained respectful. Lucy, on the other hand, is getting a little rough. I guess last week she had a headache and threatened to castrate a customer for slurping his drink too loudly or some shit. I think Jude is more worried about losing revenue for the club or having to bail his pregnant woman out of jail.”
“I can see how that would be a concern for him,” I say with a chuckle. “That would be great if you talked to Ozzy for me. I appreciate it.”
Barrett dips his chin. “Consider it done.” He clears his throat and there’s a tension on his face that wasn’t there a few moments ago. “Have you talked to your father?”
I blow out a long breath. “No. I texted my mother and told her Syd and I left, and if they wanted a fight, I’d see them in court. I haven’t heard anything else from them, though.”
Barrett’s jaw flexes a few times before he speaks again. “Do you think he’s given up on the idea of taking Syd?”
I shrug one shoulder and bite my lip before answering.
“I don’t know. But it’s been over a week, and there’s been no word.
As far as Freya’s concerned, he doesn’t have a leg to stand on.
There’s nothing my father hates more than losing, so I doubt he’s going to push the issue now that we’re living here. ”
“I wish we knew one way or the other, though,” Barrett says, concern creasing little lines around his eyes.
“He left my sister and Syd alone when we lived in New York. My best guess is he’s going to pretend we don’t exist again. What does he have to gain by starting a fight he can’t win?”
“I hope you’re right. Syd doesn’t need that shit in her life.”
The fact he’s concerned about how a custody battle—no matter how far-fetched it is—would hurt Syd warms me.
It’s so different being around someone who cares about Syd’s emotional well-being as much as I always have.
It’s like I have a partner in this. Not that we’re partners, per se, but it’s nice to have another person on Syd’s team.
“What about your stuff in New York? I’m assuming you need to move out of your apartment,” Barrett says.
“My lease is up this month. I don’t have much, but I should probably rent a van or something. The big stuff I was going to put in storage.”
“What about Syd’s stuff?”
“We grabbed everything she wanted from her place before the funeral.” Not that she had much there. “Everything else, I told her landlord to donate or sell. She was apparently late with the rent, so it was a win-win for him.”
He could have been full of shit, but I know Samantha wasn’t the best at paying her bills on time. I considered it a sort of hazard pay for putting up with her for the last few years.
A smirk pulls at Barrett’s mouth. “Considering I’ve seen how you park my truck, we’ll take the club’s van to your old place and load up. We can store all your stuff at the clubhouse.”
My lips narrow into a thin line. “I told you I don’t like driving that beast. Who the hell needs a truck that big anyway? It’s almost as though you’re compensating for something else that isn’t big.” I shoot him a saccharine sweet smile and blink my eyes innocently.
Barrett huffs out a laugh. “Insulting my manhood now, pup? If you wanted to see my cock, all you had to do was ask.”
My cheeks flame in embarrassment, cursing Barrett under my breath at being so…so him. Of course he would come right out and say something like that.
The man chuckles and moves to walk past me out of the kitchen. “We can leave later today. I’ll make arrangements for a hotel so we don’t have to do it all in one day.”
I don’t respond. I just sit at the table and think about how he constantly has to one-up me with a quick comeback.
Barrett never backs down from any jab I throw at him.
One moment we can be having a perfectly respectable conversation, and the next we’re poking at each other trying to get a rise from the other person.
I’d say I hate it—hell, I used to loathe it—but I’d be lying.
Closing my laptop, I walk to Syd’s room at the end of the hall across from mine and knock on her door.
“Yeah?” she calls from the other side.
I open the door and see Syd lying under her maroon bedspread, looking cozy and peaceful in her bed. This right here makes any annoyances I have with Barrett worth it.
“Hey, kiddo. We’re going to head to the city today to get the rest of my stuff.”
Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Really? Can we please get a few slices from the place down the street from your apartment? I’m dying for New York pizza. Oh, and some bagels to bring home too?”
A smile forms on my mouth thinking about the weekend ritual Syd and I had of waking up and grabbing coffee and bagels. I love Cece’s cinnamon rolls—well, pretty much anything she makes—but there’s nothing quite like a bagel with a schmear to start your day.
“Absolutely.” I look over to the corner of her room and spot the stuffed animal her mom gave her peeking out from under her sweatshirt. “Still holding on to it?” I ask, nodding toward the chair.
“Yeah,” is all she says in response.
“That’s okay. You’ll give it to him when you’re ready.
” Syd and Barrett have come a long way in the last couple of weeks.
I’m not about to pressure her into giving him the toy until she’s completely onboard with trusting him.
“Alright, let’s get ready so we can get on the road. That slice is calling my name.”