Chapter 14 Lee
LEE
The next morning, I’m up before dawn with a plan.
I stop at the coffee cart on Main Street first, ordering her usual—medium dark roast, two sugars, splash of cream. The barista, a college kid named Tyler, knows the order by heart.
“The usual for Kya?” he asks, already reaching for a cup.
“That’s the one.”
He grins as he works. “You two are cute together. About time she had someone looking out for her.”
I hand over a twenty for a four-dollar coffee. “Keep the change.”
Devil’s doesn’t open until 11, but I know Kya’s there early doing paperwork. Her car sits alone in the lot, and I can see lights on in the back office. Perfect.
I use the spare key she gave me yesterday and let myself in through the back door.
She’s hunched over her laptop, blonde hair falling in waves around her face, wearing an oversized flannel. She looks up when she hears my footsteps, and the smile that spreads across her face hits me like a physical blow.
“Lee? What are you doing here so early?”
“Brought you coffee,” I say, setting the cup on her desk. “Figured you could use the caffeine.”
She reaches for it eagerly, wrapping both hands around the warm cup. “Thank you. I’ve been up since five trying to make sense of these supplier invoices.”
“You’re pushing yourself too hard.”
She makes a noncommittal sound.
I run my fingers through her hair, working out the tangles. “You’re going to burn yourself out at this rate.”
“There’s just so much to do. Devil didn’t exactly have the best filing system. The invoices, the inventory, the staff schedules…” She trails off as my fingers find a particularly stubborn knot. “That feels good.”
“I know.” I keep working through her hair, massaging her scalp with gentle pressure. “What else needs doing?”
“The beer taps are acting up again. The walk-in cooler is making a weird noise. And the front door still sticks. I should probably call a handyman, but—”
“I’ll take care of it.”
She pulls back to look at me. “Lee, you don’t have to—”
“I want to.” I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, letting my fingers trail down her neck. “Let me help you, Kya. Let me take care of some of this stuff so you can focus on the important things.”
“The bar is important—”
“The bar is important,” I agree. “But so are you. And if you collapse from exhaustion, the bar doesn’t matter.”
She’s quiet for a moment, studying my face. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why do you want to help? You don’t owe me anything.”
Her question catches me off guard. Not because I don’t know the answer, but because the answer is bigger and more complicated than I’m ready to voice.
“Because I care about you,” I say finally. “And watching you struggle when I can help makes me feel like a dick.”
“Lee—”
“Shh.” I press a soft kiss to the sensitive spot just below her ear, and she melts against me. “Let me fix your door. Let me look at the taps. Let me help.”
“Okay,” she whispers.
“Good.” I press another kiss to her neck, this one with just a hint of teeth. “Good girl.”
The praise makes her breath hitch, and I file that reaction away for later use.
The next two weeks are going to be hard, but fuck if they won’t also be educational.
I spend the next hour fixing everything I can on her list and a few things that aren’t. The door needed the hinges oiled. The kitchen taps required new washers, while the cooler needs a new gasket, which I order online and have expedited.
Kya’s moved out to the bar to watch me work, sipping her coffee and pretending not to glance my way. But I catch her staring more than once, her eyes lingering on my hands, my shoulders. Her gaze feels like a warm touch across my back whenever I reach for something.
“Enjoying the show?” I ask when I catch her staring for the third time.
Pink floods her cheeks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Uh-huh.” I finish tightening the last connection on the beer tap and test it. Perfect flow, no foam. “Try this.”
I pour a small glass and hand it to her. She takes a sip, her eyes lighting up.
“That’s so much better. How did you—“
“YouTube,” I admit with a grin. I lean against the bar, watching her face. “What time does Mercy get in?”
“Ten-thirty. Why?”
I check my watch. Two hours. Perfect.
“Because I’m taking you to breakfast. Real breakfast. With actual food groups and everything.”
“Lee, I have so much work—”
“The work will still be here when we get back. But you need to eat something that doesn’t come out of a wrapper.” I touch my foot to hers. “Don’t make me throw you over my shoulder and carry you out of here.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
I lean in until my lips are almost touching hers. “Try me.”
For a moment, I think she’s going to keep arguing. Then her shoulders sag in defeat. “But we have to be back before the lunch start. I really do have a lot to do.”
“Deal. Come on,” I say, grabbing my cut from the chair. “We’re taking a ride.”
She stares at my outstretched hand for a moment, then sighs and takes it. “If I freeze to death on your bike, I’m haunting you.”
“I’ve got an extra jacket in my saddlebag. You’ll be fine.” I reach into the other bag and pull out a second helmet, a sleek black model with silver trim. “And this.”
Kya stares at the helmet in my hands. “You bought me a helmet?”
“Safety first,” I say, though we both know it’s more than that. “Can’t have you riding around with some beat-up loaner. This one’s yours.”
She takes it carefully, running her fingers over the smooth surface. “Lee…”
“Just try it on.”
She does, and it fits perfectly. Of course it does, I spent twenty minutes at the shop making sure I got the right size.
“How did you know what size to get?”
“Lucky guess,” I lie. The truth is I’d asked Emma years ago, back when I thought I might get Kya on my bike someday. Never thought it would actually happen.
Twenty minutes later, we’re climbing into the mountains on the winding road that leads to the peak. Kya’s arms are wrapped around my waist, her body pressed against my back, and every curve makes her hold me tighter. It’s torture of the best kind.
The ride up takes forty-five minutes, but there’s a little place called Mountain View Café that sits right on the ridge. Family-owned, been there for decades, and they serve the kind of breakfast that’ll stick to your ribs.
We pull into the gravel parking lot, and Kya climbs off the bike with shaky legs.
“That was…” She pauses, pulling off the helmet I’d given her. “Actually kind of amazing.”
“Good. We’ll have to do it more often.” I lead her toward the weathered wooden building with its wraparound porch and mountain views. “Wait until you see the inside.”
The café is exactly what you’d expect—checkered tablecloths, mismatched chairs, and windows that showcase the valley spreading out below us. We grab a table by the window, and I watch Kya take in the view.
“This is beautiful,” she breathes. “I’d forgotten how gorgeous it is up here.”
“Worth the ride?”
“Definitely.” She picks up the menu, scanning it with renewed interest.
“The waffles here are supposed to be incredible,” I tell her. “And the hash browns are basically a religious experience.”
When the waitress comes, I order for both of us—waffles, eggs, bacon, hash browns, orange juice, and coffee. Enough food for three people, but I want Kya to have options. I want her to remember what it feels like to have abundance instead of scarcity.
“This is too much food,” she protests when the plates arrive.
“Eat what you want. Take the rest home.” I cut into my waffle, watching her do the same. “Tell me about Portland.”
“What about it?”
“Your life there. What you liked about it. What you didn’t.”
She chews thoughtfully. “I liked the anonymity, I guess. No one knew my history or my family. I could be whoever I wanted to be.”
“And who did you want to be?”
“Someone who had her shit together. Someone successful and independent and…” She trails off, stabbing at her eggs. “Someone who didn’t need anyone.”
“Did it work?”
“For a while.” She takes another bite, and I’m gratified to see her actually enjoying the food. “But it was lonely. I had work friends, but no one I could call if I had a bad day, you know? No one who really knew me.”
“You could have called Emma.”
“Could I?” She looks up at me. “Emma’s living her dream in New York. She’s got this amazing career, this perfect life. The last thing she needs is her old best friend calling to complain about her problems.”
“That’s not how friendship works, Kya. Real friends want to be there for the bad stuff too.”
“Maybe.” She doesn’t sound convinced.
I reach across the table to steal her hand, raising it to my lips. The kiss is barely there, just a brush of my mouth against her knuckles, but she inhales sharply. I do it again, this time with the barest hint of tongue, and watch her pupils dilate.
“Lee—”
“Eat your breakfast, sweetheart.” I release her hand and return to my own food. “We should get back soon.”
She stares at me for a moment, clearly trying to process what just happened. Then she shakes her head and picks up her fork, but I catch the slight tremor in her hands.
Good. Let her think about that kiss, about the promise in it. Let her wonder what else I’m planning.
By the time we get back to Devil’s, Mercy’s car is in the lot. We find her setting up the bar, humming along to whatever’s playing on the jukebox.
“Well, well,” she says when she sees us. “Look at what the cat dragged in.”
“Good morning to you too,” Kya says, poking her tongue out at her.
I stay to help set up for the lunch rush, but as they open the doors, my phone buzzes with a text.
Stone
Church at 2. Urgent.
I show Kya the message. “I have to go. Club business.”
“Everything okay?”
“Probably just routine stuff.” I lean in, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. “Call me if you need anything. And eat some actual lunch.”
“I will.”
I start to leave, then turn back. “Kya?”
“Yeah?”
“I’ll be here before close. And if I can’t get here, a prospect will. I don’t want you alone, got me?”
She bites her lip. “Lee, you don’t have to—”
“I want to.” I meet her gaze steadily. “Let me take care of you.”
“Okay,” she says softly.
“Good.” I flash her a grin. “And note, I’ll be bringing an overnight bag.”
She narrows her eyes. “And you’ll be sleeping on the couch, sir. I have a bet to win.”
The clubhouse is buzzing with activity when I arrive. Brothers clustered in small groups, voices low and serious. Whatever this is about, it’s big.
Stone calls the meeting to order, and we file into the chapel. The atmosphere is tense, focused in a way that usually means trouble.
“Josie has a friend on the council who dropped us some intel,” Stone begins without preamble. “And it’s bad news.”
Hawk spreads a map on the table. Red X’s mark various properties throughout downtown, with arrows indicating planned developments.
“They want the entire historic district,” Hawk explains. “Eight blocks, including the residential neighborhoods on Oak Street and Pine Avenue.”
My blood runs cold. Oak Street is where Duck lives with his wife. Pine Avenue is home to half a dozen club families, people who’ve been part of this community for generations.
“What’s their timeline?” Axel asks.
“Fast,” Stone replies grimly. “They’ve already got the council votes they need for the commercial rezoning. Residential is next on the agenda in two months.”
“And if they pass the changes?”
“Everyone in those neighborhoods gets bought out or forced out. Historic homes get torn down for condos and strip malls.” Stone’s jaw is tight. “They’re trying to erase the soul of this town.”
Cash leans forward. “What’s Josie say about this?”
“She’s working on it, but legal challenges take time. Time we might not have.”
“So what’s the play?” I ask.
“I want everyone reaching out to their contacts,” Stone continues. “Property owners, businesspeople, anyone with influence. If we can prevent Devil’s being rezoned, we might have a fighting chance with the other areas.”
“What about the townsfolk?” Duck asks. “If these bastards are willing to threaten Kya over one bar, what happens when we start pushing back?”
“We protect our own,” Stone says simply. “And anyone else who stands with us.”
The meeting continues for another hour, assignments handed out, strategies discussed. By the time we’re dismissed, everyone knows their role in the coming fight.
But as I head back to my bike, my thoughts aren’t on Summit or strategy. They’re on Kya, alone at the bar, unaware that the threat just got exponentially bigger.
I pull out my phone and send her a text.
Lee
How’s your day going?
Her response comes back almost immediately.
Kya
Good. Mercy’s handling things beautifully. Looking forward to seeing you.
The simple message makes me smile despite everything. Whatever’s coming, whatever Summit has planned, I’ll be damned if I let them touch her.
Tonight, I’ll make her laugh, make her feel safe, make her forget about everything except us.
And then I’ll spend the next thirteen days driving her absolutely wild.
Two can play this game, Kya Sullivan. But only one of us is going to win.