Chapter Seven
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE SMELL OF bacon hit me the second I walked into the kitchen. My stomach growled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten since the party last night, but food wasn’t the first thing on my mind as I stepped inside.
It was her.
Fiona.
She was standing at the counter, her head bent close to Josie’s as they talked and laughed about something I couldn’t hear. Her face, the same one that had been covered with fear just days ago, was lit up with a smile—one of those rare, real ones. And Josie? He was leaning in, all charm and easy grins, soaking up every bit of her attention. That prospecting motherfucker had enough female attention. He sure as hell didn’t need one more— especially not her.
That twist of jealousy hit me hard in the chest. It came out of nowhere, burning hot, and I hated myself for it. I shouldn’t care. I didn’t even know what the hell I was feeling toward Fiona half the time. Confused. Attracted. Frustrated. Protective. Angry. All of it mixed up in a way that didn’t make sense.
But seeing her with Josie, all relaxed, and laughing, had me clenching my fists. Like something inside me was ready to snap. I could tell Josie liked her. That much was obvious. He faked a lot of smiles around the sweet butts, but not with her. And, of course, he wouldn’t need to fake anything around her. Fiona was sweet, soft-spoken, and yeah, she was beautiful in that subtle way that the more you looked, the more you couldn’t take your eyes off her.
Shit, I should know since I haven’t stopped fucking staring at her since she got here.
But she wasn’t for him. Hell, she wasn’t for me either. Not with the mess in my head and not with everything she’d just gone through. I knew that. And still... I couldn’t shake the feeling that I needed to be the one she was laughing with.
I crossed the kitchen, trying to act like I wasn’t noticing them, heading straight for the coffeepot. But my eyes kept flicking back to the two of them, trying to listen in on their conversation without making it obvious. Josie was talking about some recipe he was testing out, something about spices or some shit, and Fiona was hanging on his every word, nodding along, her fingers playing with a piece of her hair like she was comfortable around him.
That tight feeling in my chest twisted harder, and I poured my coffee with more force than necessary, nearly spilling it. Josie glanced up, noticing me for the first time. “Morning, Bolt. Hungry?”
“Yeah,” I muttered, keeping my voice casual. “Didn’t know we were runnin’ recipe classes in here.”
Josie grinned, not picking up on the edge in my tone. “You know me. Gotta feed the masses and keep ‘em happy.” He gestured to Fiona. “She’s been keeping me company in the kitchen, and if we’re lucky, she’ll make us a few of her baked treats.”
“Is that right?” I said, glancing at Fiona. She was looking at me now, but her expression was unreadable. The same tug I always felt when she looked at me was there, pulling me in, making my gut twist in ways I didn’t understand.
“Yeah,” she said softly, those fingers going to her neck, playing with that imaginary necklace. “I like to bake.”
I nodded, taking a slow sip of my coffee, trying to play it cool. But inside, my thoughts were a mess. I wasn’t jealous. I didn’t do jealousy. That wasn’t my style. Fiona was just... using the kitchen, that’s all. And Josie was a good guy, harmless, being nice. This shouldn’t bother me.
But it did.
First Gearhead and now Josie.
“So,” Josie said, wiping his hands on a dish towel, “You were saying you need to hit the store later to get those baking ingredients?”
My ears perked up at that, and before I realized what I was doing, I asked, “You goin’ out?”
Fiona glanced at me, her eyes uncertain. “Yeah. I just need a few things to get me started.”
“I’ll take you,” I said, the words out of my mouth before I could stop them. “If you’re goin’ into town, that is.”
Her eyebrows raised slightly, and for a second, I thought she might refuse. She looked back at Josie, then down at her hands, fiddling with her sleeve. “I was just going to wait on Dad or something...”
“Don’t need to do that,” I cut in, keeping my voice steady. “I’m headin’ that way today. I’ll give you a ride.”
It was a lie. I didn’t need to go anywhere. I had two engines I was rebuilding at the club’s garage that needed my attention. But something in me needed to be the one taking her. It was stupid and irrational, but I didn’t care.
Josie glanced between us, his smile faltering just a bit, but he didn’t say anything. Why did he care if I took her? It wasn’t his fucking business.
“If you’re sure,” Fiona said, her voice soft, like she wasn’t completely sold on the idea.
“I’m sure.” Lie. I wasn’t sure about anything except that I wasn’t about to let Josie—or anyone else—be the one looking out for her right now.
She hesitated, biting her lip, her fingers rotating on her neck as she thought hard, real hard , by the looks of it. I could see the wheels turning in her head. Maybe she didn’t trust me. Maybe she didn’t trust anyone but her dad. But then she nodded. “Okay. Thanks.”
Josie clapped me on the back as he passed by, heading toward the stove. “Thanks Bolt,” he said with a tight grin. “Keep her safe.”
I didn’t reply, just finished my coffee in one long gulp and set the cup down a little too hard on the counter. “You ready to head out?” I asked Fiona.
She pushed away from the counter, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah, I just need to grab my bag.”
“Take your time,” I said, watching her walk out of the kitchen. As soon as she was gone, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.
Josie was busy pulling out ingredients, as I stood there wondering what the fuck I was doing. I hated feeling like this. Like I was on the edge of falling, helpless to stop it and that fucked with my head, since I promised myself, I would never feel that way again. My hand went to the lock around my neck, grounding me, making me remember.
I ran a hand through my hair, trying to shake off the frustration that clung to me like a second skin. This trip to the store? It wasn’t about anything. It was just a ride, and that’s all. I just needed to help her, be near her for a bit to get her out of my system.
But as she came back into the kitchen, her bag slung over her shoulder and a small, hesitant smile on her face, I knew I was lying to myself.
Because this wasn’t just a ride.
And Fiona?
She wasn’t just a woman passing through my life.
I STOOD BY the front of the clubhouse, staring at Bolt’s cherry red Harley, feeling a mix of anxiety and something else I couldn’t quite place. The idea of riding with him, pressed close on the back of his bike, was... intimidating, but at the same time exhilarating. My body seemed to love the idea, humming in anticipation even if my mind tried to hide in a corner.
The motorcycle was a vintage model that much was obvious; it seemed like a theme with Bolt. I stared at the bike, wondering how I was going to get through this ride.
It wasn’t that I hadn’t ridden on a motorcycle. I had, plenty of times, just not recently, heck, not since James. It was the seat that gave me pause; I mean, dad’s motorcycle had bigger seats that didn’t require me to hold on to him. This seat would put me right into Bolt’s back and force me to grip his waist, my body very intimate with his.
James’ words also came to mind how he considered it beneath him and foolish. Only people skirting the law rode those things. I could practically hear his voice in my head, mocking me for even thinking about it.
James isn’t here, I reminded myself.
Bolt was though.
And that was its own kind of confusion.
He stepped out of the clubhouse in his tight jeans, his leather cut on over his tight black t-shirt, looking too damn good and as calm and collected as ever. I still couldn’t figure him out. One minute, he barely spoke to me, the next, he was offering to take me into town like it was nothing.
He looked up, his gaze catching mine as he handed me a helmet. I knew how this worked, but the butterflies in my stomach didn’t care and continued to flutter around.
“You ready?”
“Yeah, I’m ready,” I replied, taking the helmet from him. I secured the strap under my chin, the movements automatic from years of practice. The thought of being so close to Bolt, of wrapping my arms around him, had my heart racing.
Bolt climbed onto the bike with practiced ease, his movements fluid and confident. I followed, settling behind him like I’d done a thousand times before with Dad. But this man wasn’t my dad. This was Bolt, a very sexy biker whose woodsy smell alone had me drawing a deep breath.
“Hold on tight,” Bolt said as the engine revved beneath us.
I wrapped my arms around his waist, feeling the solid warmth of his body through the leather of his cut. My cheek brushed his back, the vibration of the engine thrumming through me as the bike roared to life. It felt good— real good, in a way that made me feel like I hadn’t felt in years.
As we sped out of the lot, the wind hit me, and I couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at my lips. I’d forgotten how freeing it felt to ride like this, the world rushing by in a blur. The wind in my face, the growl of the engine, and the steady, reassuring presence of Bolt in front of me. It was one of the many things I missed during my years with James—the freedom that came with a motorcycle, the way it made the world seem smaller, simpler.
I tightened my grip on Bolt’s waist, letting myself relax into the ride. This wasn’t about figuring him out or sorting through my mess of feelings. This was about the moment, about enjoying something I’d forgotten I loved.
The ride into town was over too quickly, and I wished for a longer ride. It was easier to focus on the road, the warmth of Bolt’s body, and the feeling of the bike beneath me than on the mess my life was right now. When Bolt pulled into the grocery store parking lot and cut the engine. I sighed in disappointment that it was over.
Bolt swung off the bike first, his usual calm demeanor firmly in place. He held out a hand to help me down, which I didn’t really need, but I took it anyway. His grip was firm, warm, and it lingered just a little too long.
“You alright?” he asked, almost like he could read my mind.
“Yeah,” I said, pushing my hair out of my face. “I’ve missed riding.”
He looked at me for a second longer than necessary, his eyes unreadable. “Figured you’d be used to it, with Horse as your dad.”
“I am,” I replied, a little more confidently now. “But it’s been awhile. James wasn’t exactly the type to hop on a motorcycle... or allow me.”
Bolt’s expression tightened, but he didn’t push. Instead, he nodded toward the store. “Let’s grab your supplies.”
We walked into the store together, the normalcy of the grocery aisles calming my nerves. Bolt grabbed a buggy, and I started picking up the ingredients that Josie didn’t have while Bolt pushed the buggy beside me. He didn’t say much, but I could feel him watching me, as if he was trying to figure out what made me tick.
What was he trying to figure out?
I wasn’t used to someone like him with his intense gaze, paying attention to me like this, trying to dig inside my head without asking questions, like my face held all the answers.
“So, you and Josie seem to be gettin’ along,” Bolt said after a while, his voice casual, but I could hear the edge in it.
I glanced up at him, caught off guard by the random question. “We are and he’s been really nice. He’s helped me settle in, letting me use the kitchen for my baking. I appreciate it so much and how kind he’s been.”
Bolt’s jaw tensed just a fraction, but he didn’t say anything at first. “Yeah, a damn stand-up guy.”
“He is,” I agreed, grabbing a bag of brown sugar and tossing it into the buggy. “It’s been nice having someone to talk with about some of my interests and stuff.”
That seemed to hit a nerve, though I couldn’t figure out why. Bolt didn’t look at me, just stared at the shelves ahead of us as we moved down the aisle. I wondered what was going on in his head, why he cared so much about who I was spending my time with. He was the one who always had someone on his arm, especially Jenny. So why did it matter who I talked to?
The silence between us stretched, and it was a little uncomfortable. It was like we were both trying to figure out what this was, this strange pull between us that neither of us seemed to understand.
I certainly didn’t.
We finished gathering the groceries, and Bolt picked up the bags like it was second nature, which I found odd for a man like him. As we headed back to the bike and he fit everything into the saddlebag, I could still feel the tension between us, but I wasn’t sure what to do about it.
I can’t fix what I don’t understand.
When he handed me my helmet, our fingers brushed again, and I felt that spark—the one that made my heart race every time I was near him. I couldn’t deny it anymore. There was something there, something neither of us was ready to acknowledge. But it was there, and it was growing, but neither of us knew how to navigate it.
The ride back to the clubhouse was the same road, the same scenery, but the air between us felt heavier, charged even. I held on to Bolt just a little tighter, not because I needed to, but because I wanted to. Something I never thought possible with a man after what James had done to me. And when we pulled into the lot, I felt an almost crushing feeling in my chest that it was over.
As I climbed off the bike, I caught Bolt watching me again, that same confused expression in his eyes.
“Thanks for the ride,” I said, offering him a small smile.
He nodded, his gaze lingering on me for a beat too long. “Anytime.”
I turned and headed inside, but the feel of his eyes on my back stayed with me. I shut the door behind me and as I started down the hall, Jenny appeared in front of me, a tight smile on her face.
“The men here are good at helpin’ the needy,” she said, not losing that tight smile. “Especially Bolt, but that’s all it is.”
Was she warning me away from Bolt? That mean spirited remark sure sounded like it, so I replied with a big smile, “I wouldn’t know about him helping the needy, but it sure was nice of him to help me out today, being on the back of his bike, holding on tight as we rode, it was what I needed.”
Without waiting for a snarky reply, I walked away, and as I made my way to the kitchen; I realized something.
I could do this. I could start over and begin again and have the confidence I had before James. Yes, I was always quiet, a little shy, but always confident in who I was, willing to go after what I wanted.
Brenda taught me to stand up for myself against bullies, and Jenny was jealous and trying to intimidate me. The fact that I wasn’t about to cower to the territorial woman was testament to the fact I was finding the parts of me that James forced into hiding.