Chapter 8
Bear
Last night blew my mind. The way Natalie smiled at me, pulled me down for that kiss, the one I’ve been fuckin’ dreaming about since the first day I set eyes on her.
Now, I’m not stupid. I know that she wouldn’t have been doing those things if she had been sober.
That doesn’t mean that I didn’t enjoy every single second of her treating me like someone who mattered rather than just a gigantic freak.
Standing in the shower, my hand wraps around my thick cock, and I stroke myself to memories of how soft and sweet her kisses were.
How she didn’t make me feel broken, especially when she cupped the side of my face and told me that I was handsome.
My fuckin’ heart skipped a beat at her tender touch.
How good it felt to live out my deepest, darkest caveman fantasy of throwing her over my shoulder and walking off with her.
That last thought is all it takes for me to shoot my load, unloading all my pent-up sexual frustration in one go.
I stand there with one hand against the shower wall and the other squeezing out the last of my cum.
When I’m dry as a bone, I grab the shower head, rinse off the mess I made and continue with my shower.
This woman is making me a fuckin’ mess and I need to rise above it. She’s my best friend’s long-lost sister and that means she will never be mine. She’s not mine to want, to jerk off to, or even think about this way. I’m a dirty fucker for doing it and I need to stop.
I dress fast, like if I give myself too much time I’ll start thinking again. That’s a bad idea. Thinking leads to imagining her smile, the way she looked at me like I was something she wanted. Thinking leads to wanting. Wanting leads to what happened yesterday with me and Rick.
By the time I make it down to the main room, breakfast is already laid out. The prospects have done their job—eggs piled high in warming trays, bacon stacked, toast sweating under heat lamps. Freshly brewed coffee that could strip paint sits in metal urns at the end of the table.
A couple of brothers are already eating, half-awake, talking about routes and bullshit that doesn’t matter. Rick’s not here. He’s doing the early run today. He’s still not properly talking to me after our fight, but we exchanged enough words to organize today’s deliveries.
And Natalie.
One thing we’re both in agreement on is that after yesterday, she’s staying at the clubhouse today. I don’t want her out on deliveries.
I grab a plate and start loading it up without really thinking about what I’m taking. Eggs, bacon, toast. Muscle memory. I’m halfway through pouring coffee when I feel it—that prickle at the back of my neck that tells me she’s close.
I glance up.
She’s standing just inside the doorway, hesitating like she’s not sure she’s welcome. Her hair is pulled back messily, and she’s wearing one of Rick’s hoodies that hangs off her shoulders. Her face is pale, eyes a little glassy.
Hungover.
She spots me and freezes for half a second. Then she straightens and walks over like she’s bracing herself.
“Morning,” she says, voice quiet but steady.
“Morning,” I reply. I keep my tone normal, like my brain hasn’t been looping on her mouth for the last twenty-four hours and I hadn’t already jerked off twice this morning thinking about her peachy ass. “You look like hell.”
She lets out a breath that might be a laugh. “I feel worse.”
I gesture with my mug towards the coffee. “Drink. Then eat. Prospects went heavy on grease. They’re good for that, if nothing else.”
She smiles faintly and reaches for a mug, holding on with both hands like it’s a lifeline. She takes a sip, then sighs in relief.
“Oh wow. That’s strong.”
“Yeah,” I say. “But it works.”
She fixes herself a plate and follows me to one of the tables at the edge of the room, away from the others. It’s not private, but it’s quieter.
We sit.
For a few seconds, all there is between us is the scrape of forks and the low hum of morning noise. I can feel her tension from here, like she’s wound tight under that hoodie.
Finally, she clears her throat.
“About last night,” she says.
I look up and meet her eyes. She looks embarrassed but determined.
“I’m sorry,” she continues. “I shouldn’t have put you in that position. I was drunk, and that’s not an excuse. I just… I don’t want things to be weird between us.”
“They’re not weird,” I say immediately.
She studies my face, like she’s checking to see if I mean it. “You sure?”
“Yeah,” I say. “I’m sure.”
She exhales slowly, some of the tightness leaving her shoulders. “Good. Because I really like being here. I like you. And I don’t want to ruin that because I made a bad call.”
I swallow. There it is again—it’s almost like she thinks I wouldn’t want her.
“You didn’t ruin anything,” I tell her. “You were drunk. I wasn’t. End of story.”
She frowns slightly. “It still wasn’t fair to you.”
“Nat,” I say, keeping my voice low, “if you hadn’t been drunk, and if you weren’t my best friend’s sister, I probably wouldn’t have been so gentlemanly about it.”
Her fork pauses halfway to her mouth.
She looks at me, really looks at me, and something softens in her expression.
“Oh,” she says quietly.
“Yeah.” Then, because I can’t help myself, I add, “And there’s no ‘probably’ about it.”
A small smile tugs at her mouth. “I can live with that.”
She takes another bite, then glances up again. “Rick left early?”
“He did,” I say. “Didn’t want to wake you.”
Her brows scrunch up. “How is he today?”
I shrug. “Rick’s being Rick.”
We eat for a bit. It’s easier now. The silence between us isn’t loaded anymore. It’s comfortable. Dangerous, in its own way because it’s clear we’re both on the same page about whatever this is between us, but comfortable.
After a minute, she rubs her temples. “I don’t usually drink like that.”
“I figured.”
“I just…” she trails off, then shakes her head. “Never mind.”
I set my fork down. “What?”
She hesitates, then sighs. “I haven’t had a lot of good days lately. Last night felt good. Normal. I guess I didn’t want it to end.”
That hits me square in the chest.
“I get that,” I say quietly.
She looks at me then, searching. “Do you?”
“Yeah,” I answer honestly. “More than you think.”
Her gaze lingers, then she nods.
“I’m glad you were there,” she says. “Even if you did turn me down.”
I smirk. “You say that like it was easy.”
She laughs softly. “Was it not?”
“No,” I say. “It wasn’t.”
That seems to please her more than it should.
We finish eating, slower than necessary. Neither of us in a hurry to get up. When she finally pushes her plate away, she looks more like herself. The color is back in her face, and her eyes look clearer.
“Thanks for not being weird about this,” she says. “I’ll go get dressed and join you in ten minutes.”
I shake my head. “Nope. You’re gonna stay here today.”
Instantly, her expression falls. “I thought we were okay. I promise I won’t make a move on you if that’s what this is about.”
“Don’t,” I say. “It’s not that. We got followed yesterday. We don’t know what your foster father is up to. I don’t want you out there until I can be sure you’re gonna be safe.”
She doesn’t say anything. Just bites her lip.
“We don’t want you out there. That’s one area me and Rick agree on.”
“I thought I had a job with you both,” she says, sounding dejected.
“And you do, darlin’. Just give things a day or two to settle. Okay?”
“Okay.”
I stand and take her plate, adding it to mine. “And about last night. I meant what I said, so don’t you be thinkin’ your advances were unwelcome.”
Her smile turns shy and warm all at once. “Good.”
I walk away before I do something I’ll regret, but I can feel her watching me as I dump our plates and head towards the door.
This is dangerous territory.
But for the first time, I don’t hate the idea of standing right in the middle of it.
***
Siege has given Rick time off from his prospecting duties because we need to keep our business afloat and protect Natalie.
That’s more than a full-time job right now.
We’re really busting our asses to keep the routes operational.
Rick went on the first run today. He was supposed to call me when he finished up but he’s not answering his phone.
I’m guessing he’s still pissed after our fight last night.
I’m halfway through my route. Even when I’m trying to stay focused on the road, Natalie’s face keeps popping into my mind. Shoving it aside, I take a turn left onto a side street.
I jump when my phone goes off. Cursing under my breath, I grab it from its cradle and hit accept, not bothering to look at the caller ID, and answer roughly, “About time, asshole.”
“Bear,” Siege says.
Shit! I quickly try and do damage control. “Sorry, Prez, I thought you were Rick.”
Although he’s only said my name, there’s something in the tone of his voice that unsettles me. He’s got bad news and I quickly steel myself to hear it as I jerk the steering wheel to the side and pull off the road.
“What’s up? Is Natalie okay?”
“Yeah,” he says quickly. “It’s Rick. He’s been in an accident.”
There’s a pause on the line, short but heavy. The silence tells me more than words ever could.
“Where is he?” I ask. “I’ll come right away.”
“County Road Twelve. About a mile past the old feed store. Rage called. An ambulance got called out. Rick went down hard. Just so you know, the cops are there too.”
“I’m not far from there now. Tell Rage I can be there in about seven minutes,” I say. “If they’re gone when I get there, I’ll go straight to the hospital.”
“It’s looking serious,” Siege adds.
“Is Natalie still at the clubhouse?” I ask before getting off the phone.
Siege exhales, and I can hear the relief in his voice when he speaks. “Yeah. She’s helping Crow’s boys with their math homework. Rigs and I are lookin’ out for her.”
“Does she know?”
“Not the full details. I’m waitin’ on an update from Rage,” he says.