Chapter 5 Lana
LANA
Ben
Look at this, baby. You were so hot back then. Admit it, you miss me.
I stare at my phone, my jaw on the floor, as I just finished playing Pictionary with Noah. Ben has no shame. I don’t think he even knows the word. An old picture of him and me kissing on the beach on holiday shines before me, our smiles contrasting with what he now ignites in me: disgust and fear.
You were so hot back then.
I touch my belly, the softness of my skin making me swallow hard.
I’m fit, work out, and take care of myself, but I’m definitely not as thin as I used to be before having Noah.
I may be in shape now, but I know my skin is a bit loose compared to a woman who didn’t carry a child.
I’m normally okay with it, and from the looks I get when I walk in the streets, most men find me attractive, so why does this text make me feel like trash?
The doorbell rings; it’s six-thirty. The sitter just arrived.
I open the door to a lovely young blonde girl, her university law books under her arm, with her glasses on.
“Hi, Rachel, we just finished the Pictionary. He’s all yours,” I greet her.
“Hi, Mrs. Matterson, how fun!” she says with a large smile as she enters.
“Rachel!” shouts Noah, running to her as she lifts him, even though he’s not a baby anymore.
I found Rachel thanks to Nancy last year; she’s Chloe and Ava's babysitter, too, so I knew I could trust her with my boy.
Noah adores her because she agrees to read him more books than I do before bed, but I like that she can also be firm and put limits when needed.
“Mom, can I watch Nemo with Rachel just a bit, please?” He joins his little hands in a prayer.
“Just twenty minutes and without the shark scenes, okay? Last time you had a nightmare, remember?”
“That was really scawy, Rachel. If you saw it, you’d have nightmares too,” he assures her, and Rachel and I exchange a soft smile at his cute concern.
“I’m gonna go change. Make yourself at home, Rachel,” I say as I climb the stairs to change into workout clothes.
“What should I wear?” I mutter, spreading a pink pilates ensemble on the bed.
No, that won’t do. I dig in my dresser and find a pair of high-waisted black shorts with a black crop top.
Much better. Boxing style. I mean, I think it is.
Sliding in the clothes, I grab a pink scrunchie, fix a high ponytail, then stand in front of my mirror.
Not bad.
Not bad at all.
Cute but not over the top.
My hand spreads on my belly as I take in the idea that in thirty minutes, I'm going to be really close with Carter, like physically close. A side of me heaves at the idea, the thought of his touch rising fires inside my belly, but another part is much more cautious. The last time I was in close proximity with a man had nothing to do with seduction and everything to do with fear and survival instinct, as I remember Ben’s punches hitting me in the stomach on our kitchen floor.
How will I react tonight?
CARTER
“Hey, didn’t know we were sparring today, did I forget?
” Ash says, watching me bring a bottle of water into the ring of our gym.
Professional size, with a brand new floor since the last one got ripped out from Ares’ last session.
We usually use our octagon to train, but since the last fight night was a week ago, we’ve already dismantled it.
The club hall is pretty much an open concept with different areas: the bar at the front, the mechanics and garage on the right, and the gym on the back left with our offices upstairs.
And the basement, of course. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to close any door to keep our self-defense session private, but I know most of the brothers will be at the bar or in their homes tonight, so we won’t be bothered.
“No, I’m not sparring today,” I deadpan, pushing up one of the ropes to get back down.
“Okay, so what d’ya up to?” He frowns, his short red hair all disheveled after his ride.
“I’m teaching someone self-defense,” I grunt.
“Someone?” he repeats loudly.
“Yes.”
“Wait, are you bringing a girl here? Like at the club?” His eyes widen.
“Yes.”
“Carter, I swear if you keep on with these fuck ass one-word sentences, I’m gonna lose it.” He runs a hand through his hair. “How come you haven’t told me? That’s huge.”
“Why would I have told you?” I ask, tilting my head to the side.
“Because we’re friends, you dumbass.” He steps toward me and punches my shoulder hard without making me move an inch.
Friends? We work together, we get along, I don’t hate seeing him, and I’d take a bullet for him. Is that friendship? If so, I guess we are friends.
“Her name is Lana, she’s a single mom with an invasive ex, which is why I offered to teach her self-defense,” I explain, listening to my cold as ice voice and wishing it didn’t sound like a freaking robot.
“You’re dating a mom? No way.” He puts both of his palms on his head. Why is it an issue? Lana had a life before I met her; whether she has a kid or not doesn’t change how special she is.
“Yeah, why?”
“Has she talked to you? Like more than five minutes?”
“What are you implying? Get to the point.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, ‘cause why is he using subtext when he knows I can’t read those.
“Just, no offense, Cart, but you don’t scream stepfather material.
You know, with the no emotion thing and torture skills and all that.
” He winces, a weird smile lifting his lips, but his eyes aren’t following.
Why is he even talking about becoming a stepfather?
I know I don’t have it in me, I know I’m a piece of shit with no empathy and feelings, so yeah, I’m fucking aware that I’ll never get the happy endings with the white picket fences.
I’ll take what I can get from the moments Lana’s okay to spend with me, and that’s all.
There’s no hope for guys like me, I’m beyond repair, and I’m well aware of that.
But it doesn’t mean I like the reminder.
“I know,” I rasp blankly, shoving away the tingle of pain throbbing in my chest and embracing the reality of it.
“Hey, I didn’t mean,” he steps toward me, patting my shoulder once, “just cause you’re a bit different doesn’t mean you can’t have a shot at it, huh?
” A genuine smile spreads on his face. “You never know, she might even like your whole I’m-a-robot thing,” he chuckles, “anyway, gotta go, I’ll see you tomorrow at Mia’s.
Good luck with your date, dude.” He winks at me, then leaves.
I look down at my phone and notice it’s time for me to go pick her up.
I’m a bit early, but I’d rather that than being late.
Can’t make such a pretty and smart woman like her wait.
I mount my Harley, checking again the gear I got for her.
I had bought them this morning when I thought about taking my bike to pick her up tonight.
I can’t take any risk of her sliding on the concrete and losing her skin like shreds of paper if anything were to happen.
After a good twenty minutes of high speed, I slow down, reaching her neighborhood.
The lights are up, and I notice two silhouettes behind the sheer white curtains.
I clench my jaw before looking closer and seeing that it’s a female.
I sigh. Good. Must be the sitter she talked about.
Removing my helmet, I dismount my bike. Before I even reach the stairs of her porch, she comes out, closing the door rapidly.
She doesn’t want her kid to see me. I understand.
Protecting her son is her priority, especially if she’s not sure about who I am.
My chest tightens at the sight in front of me.
She’s wearing barely anything which shows off the goosebumps covering her arms. Just a small black T-shirt and high-waisted shorts in the same color.
Her hair is held in a tight ponytail, displaying her goddess-like bone structure.
I clench my jaw, thinking how perfectly she would fit in my arms.
“Hi,” she says, fidgeting and looking at me from head to toe.
“Hi,” I reply in a monotone. “I got you gear,” I explain, giving her the jacket, the pants, and the helmet I got under my arm.
“Oh, are we driving on this?” She points at my bike behind me.
“Yeah, is that alright for you?”
“Do I have a choice?” She chuckles. Is it a joke or is she truly asking me? Fuck, maybe I should call a taxi and come back later for my bike.
“Of course you have a choice. I’m gonna call a taxi and—”
“Carter, no, I’m kidding,” she smiles, “I’m good with the bike. I’ve never done this, that’s all.”
I nod. “The gear will protect your skin if you fall. It never happens, but just in case. I can’t have you on my bike with nothing on.” I’d never let anything happen to her but other drivers can be assholes sometimes, so I’d better have her protected just in case.
“I don’t have nothing on.” She blushes.
Blushing.
Good.
“I could tear your shorts in half with my fingers. I’ll wait for you here,” I say before turning my back on her and resting my hands, fisted together behind my back.
Just like I do when Ash and I have to wait for Ares’s wife in public.
She inhales deeply, then all I hear is the ruffling of the clothes as she puts them on.
“All done,” she says with her sweet voice, and I turn, staring at her body tightly covered with the gear I bought her. The size is perfect, like a second skin and it’s messing with my head when I should be focused on teaching her self-defense tonight.
“You are beautiful,” I tell her, ‘cause she’s too pretty not to put it into words.
She bites her lip. “Thanks, I… Thank you for the gear.”
“No problem.” I shrug, taking the helmet from the backseat. “All set?” I ask, looking at the door behind her, wondering if she needs to go in before we leave.
“Yes, the sitter is here, we can go now.” She smiles lightly and takes the helmet. I try to look away because the sight of her in those clothes is…unsettling.
“Nice ride,” she murmurs, looking at my bike. Black sleek chrome with enough speed to ride us to the valley in no time and watch a sunset or whatever women like to do on dates.
I nod. “Can I lift you up on the bike?” I ask because the last time I moved too fast she thought I was about to attack her.
“Um, yeah… Okay,” she says, her voice low and soft like velvet. Putting both of my palms on her hips, I lift her like a feather to sit on the back seat.
“I’ll go slow, but just so you know the basics…
Hold onto my waist tight to stay safe and tap on my helmet twice if you want to point at something.
If you need us to stop, just tap three times on it and I’ll know,” I tell her before positioning the helmet on her face and then looking at her breathtaking honey brown eyes.
There’s even a slight tint of gold in them.
So fucking pretty.
I mount in front of her, trying my best to ignore the heat from her body behind mine and her hands shyly circling my waist. Once I’m sure she’s comfortable, I glance at her once in the rearview mirror and then ride toward the club, my heart pumping so hard in my ribcage I almost think it’ll burst out on the concrete before we get there.
I’ve never ridden with a woman, but here, with Lana, it’s like a missing piece of my puzzle has found its way back where it belongs.