Chapter Seven
“ M orning, Sloane.”
Gunner’s voice shocks me as soon as I walk through the door.
“Morning,” I mumble, heading toward the back to drop my things.
Gunner never speaks to me in the morning. I usually am the first one to speak between us. He always grunts in response. It’s our routine. Our thing.
Yet today, he has changed it up. I don’t like it.
It feels weird.
When I head back to my bench to see what work I have today, my eyes widen. Instead of a list of oil changes, I have a variety of jobs from brakes to a radiator changeout.
“What’s this?” I turn with the list to find Gunner already looking at me.
He’s leaning back against the car, his arms crossed over his chest, showing just how fit he really is, and he has a smirk on his face. He’s sexy as hell. Usually he’s an asshole, which ruins the picture before it can embed itself in my head, but this morning is different.
“That’s your job list. You think you can handle it?” he asks.
“Of course. Why the change?”
I want to kick myself for asking the question. Don’t look a gifted horse in the mouth after all.
“You have been telling me that you can do more. You did the shit work without complaint. Hell, even the prospect complained after two weeks of that shit, but you kept your head down and did it so you earned this. Don’t fuck it up,” he warns, but there is humor in his voice.
My head is spinning at the man in front of me. Long gone is the grump I’m used to. Instead, in his place is a guy I’ve never met before.
“Stop being so nice. You are creeping me out.” That only makes his smile grow bigger. “Stop smiling. Seriously, I’ll do the oil changes rather than whatever this is.”
I wave my hand at him. It only makes him laugh.
“You want me to go back to being a dick rather than being nice to you?”
“Yes,” I admit.
I don’t know how to handle this Gunner. He is dangerous. I have become tolerant of grumpy Gunner. Sexy, nice Gunner? Yeah, I could start to wonder about other things related to him, and that is dangerous. I do not need to have a sex dream about my boss. Not with those arms. It would be bad.
He shakes his head. “Get to work, Trouble. Stop being a brat.”
His words would usually make me laugh, but today I bristle because the tone of his voice doesn’t show annoyance. No, it almost sounds affectionate.
I really need to fix my car. All this riding on his bike is fucking with us both. He’s being less of a dick, and my walls aren’t as high as they once were.
Sure, it’s just a ride. We don’t even speak. We lock up together, then I follow him to his bike. He hands me a helmet that he must have grabbed for me because he uses his own. Then he takes me home, dropping me on the sidewalk in front of the house. He watches until I get inside before he takes off.
Not a single word usually passes between us. Almost as if we know as soon as we clock out, we are walking a thin line. A line where if a word is spoken, something could shatter.
It doesn’t help that being on the back of that bike has made me feel more alive. I used to be scared of motorcycles. My mother always preached about the danger of them. She warned me to stay away from any guy who rode them. I always secretly thought maybe my father rode one and that’s why she hated them, but she’d never admit it. All she ever told us was that our father took off, leaving us behind. For that alone, I hate him.
So imagine my surprise when I find not only do I like riding, but my body reacts to being pressed against Gunner’s. It’s been awkward enough, but now with this? I have no clue what to do with him.
Deciding to ignore him, I go to my station and start prepping for the day. As the other guys come in, I notice how they keep looking at Gunner too.
Jagger comes over to me, setting a coffee on my bench.
“Grabbed you this when I stopped this morning. What’s going on with Gunner? He seems…happy?” he asks, his eyes never leaving the man in question.
“Thanks for the coffee.” I pick it up and blow on it as I look over to Gunner.
He’s chatting with Fox about something. He laughs, making Fox laugh too.
“No idea,” I say.
“Maybe he finally got laid. Must have been some grade A pussy to make him this chipper.” Jagger snorts, walking away.
My stomach churns at the thought. Not that I care that he is with someone else, but I did think that maybe his new attitude had something to do with me.
Of course it doesn’t, though. Why would it be related to me when I have been nothing but a thorn in his side? Trouble, as he likes to call me.
“Sloane, you want me to pull in your first car?” Gunner calls out to me, shaking me from my thoughts.
“Nope. I got it. Thanks.”
The entire day, I keep my eye on him, though. It shouldn’t annoy me as much as it does, but I can’t help it. Seeing him being so nice to everyone has me on edge. So much so that by the end of the shift, I don’t even want to ride home with him. I contemplate asking Fox for a ride or even ordering a rideshare.
Before I get the chance to, Gunner is at my side, though.
“You did good today. That belt was really giving you a hard time, huh?” He leans next to my locker as I gather my things.
“Yeah. Thank God you had that tool,” I mutter.
“I’m surprised you’d never used one before.”
I shrug. “They are expensive. I’ve always been able to muscle my way through it.”
He nods. “Well, do you want to stop for food on the way home? I know a little place with some bomb-ass burgers.”
“Can you cut it out? You are driving me insane today,” I finally snap.
He looks shocked. “What?”
“You are being all nice and shit. It’s not you.”
He frowns. “So you don’t want a burger?”
I sigh. “Look, I had gotten used to how things were. Now you are changing the status quo. My anxiety can’t handle it. Maybe I should get a ride home from Fox or Jagger.”
I look past him as if one might magically appear.
Gunner’s frown turns into a glare.
“No. Get on the fucking bike and I’ll take you. Always so dramatic. You’re a brat, you know that, right?” he mutters at me, the happiness fleeing from his voice.
“Or so you’ve told me.”
“Such trouble. Let’s go before I change my mind and make you walk home.”
His threat is there, but I know he wouldn’t go through with it.
Still, I hustle to the bike, glad we seem to be getting back to our old dynamic. It’s one that I can handle. I know how to act when he is a dick.
All I can hope is that things remain the same from here on out. I’m not ready for any more changes.
“Just lie back and let me take care of you, daddy.”
She runs her hands down my chest as she kisses my dick. It jumps up at her, wanting more of her skin on mine. She doesn’t disappoint. She swallows the entire thing in one go, making me groan.
“Sloane.”
My eyes pop open as I jerk awake. My dick is throbbing. The precum is covering the tip as the burn of need fills me.
I was dreaming of Sloane on my dick.
This is not good. I cannot be thinking about her this way.
Sure, I’ve had sex dreams before, but never about anyone specific. Usually the woman in question was some faceless bombshell.
This was very clearly Sloane. From her brown hair to her chestnut-colored eyes. She was even wearing her work overalls. She looked just like she does at work, except her pouty red lips were stretched wide around my cock.
“Fuck,” I mutter to myself as I get out of bed.
I make my way to my en suite bathroom, turning on the shower. By the time I get in, my dick is still hard and wanting.
I should go out and find a woman to get rid of my little problem, but I don’t want to. I’m tired of the club girls. They all want to fuck you, but then seem to think that they might be the one to change your mind. It’s why none of them ever stick around long.
No, I can’t go fuck this feeling out of me, but I can jack myself off until it goes away.
It feels a little weird, but I close my eyes and bring the dream back to the front of my head.
She called me daddy.
It’s weird. I always thought it was odd when women did this, but for some reason, I like the idea of Sloane doing it. Could it be the brat in her that makes me want that?
Either way, I picture her with her lips around my dick. As I let the dream play in my head, I squeeze my dick, jacking it in rhythm with my dream.
It doesn’t take long for me to come, Sloane’s name on my tongue.
I need to get the girl off the back of my bike. It is messing with my head having her close to me all the time.
The only way to do that is to get her a car, but she’d never take a new one from me. I can, however, go get her car and fix it.
I know she said she didn’t have the money, but I sure as fuck do and don’t mind spending it. Not for my peace of mind.
It’s Saturday. She doesn’t work today, so I could take the tow truck and go get it.
As I get dressed, I know that’s exactly what I will do.
It doesn’t take me long to get to her house. It’s still pretty early, but I can hear noise coming from inside the house. So I knock on the door.
The woman that answers the door isn’t what I expect.
It’s Sloane. I have no doubt about it, but she doesn’t look like the girl I have come to know from work.
Usually she has her hair braided and in a bun to keep it out of the way while she works. Other than the day she started, I have never seen her without her overalls.
Today, she has her hair pulled back still, but it’s up in some messy bun. She has a pair of glasses sitting on her nose, making her look like a cute librarian. It’s the outfit that does it for me, though. She is wearing the shortest pair of shorts I have ever seen. I’m sure if she turned, her ass cheeks would be hanging out. Part of me wants her to turn so I can enjoy the view. Then I’d have to smack it for her being such a brat and showing off her goods to everyone.
Her shirt isn’t much better. She is wearing a tiny black tank top, her breasts barely being contained. She’s not even wearing a bra, so I can see her nipples poking through to say hi.
It’s my own personal hell.
She’s nineteen, Gunner. Nineteen.
The reminder isn’t helping. She might be eleven years younger than me, but fuck if I don’t want her. I want to bend her over right here right now and fuck her senseless.
“What are you doing here?” she hisses at me, pushing me back so she can step outside. She is so close I can smell her shampoo. Smells like strawberries.
“I need the keys to your car. I’m taking it to the shop.” I hold out my hand for the keys, but she folds her arms over her chest.
I really wish she hadn’t. It only makes her tits pop out even more. I didn’t need her adding to my fantasies.
“I can’t afford it.” She looks back at the door as if she is going to be caught.
Anger starts to rise from within me. She has a guy in there. Does she live with a boyfriend?
If she does, I’m going to fuck his world up. How dare he let his woman walk home alone every day. Pitiful excuse for a man.
“You need to go, Gunner.”
“Not without the car.”
“Why do you have to be so stubborn? I can handle this myself. I told you that.”
“You told me you can’t afford the part. We get wholesale prices. Let us help you.” I make it a demand, not a request.
She is about to speak again when the door opens behind her. I ready myself to face the lousy son of a bitch not treating Sloane well, but instead of a man, an older woman pokes her head out.
“Everything okay, Sloane?”
“Yeah, this is one of my bosses, Gunner. Gunner, this is my mother, Jane.” Sloane looks nervous at us meeting.
I shake her hand, noting the way she eyes my cut.
“Is there something wrong?” she asks me.
“He was leaving.” Sloane’s eyes seem to plead with me, but she’s not winning this one.
“No, ma’am. Sloane has been without a car for a couple weeks. We treat our employees like family, so I’m going to take her car in and get it fixed.”
Jane frowns. “We really can’t afford that right now. We are making do with the bus and hitching rides.”
“You misunderstand me, ma’am. Sloane is an asset to us. This isn’t a handout like I’m sure you both are thinking. It’s an investment. Sloane is a powerful tool at the garage. We are only completing the maintenance necessary to keep her working properly.”
Sloane glares at me, but her mother’s eyes soften. “That is really sweet. Would you like to come in for a coffee? I’d like to know more about where my girl is working.”
I really should say no, but seeing how annoyed Sloane is, I nod instead.
“I would love to.”
“Of fucking course you would,” Sloane mutters as I pass her into the house.
It’s a small home. The couch is made up into a bed like someone is sleeping there. Glancing down the hall, I note only three doors. I’d bet it’s a two-bedroom, one-bath home. It’s not in the best condition either. I wouldn’t be surprised if they have a slumlord. They are a dime a dozen around here.
Either you get a slumlord or you get a property management company that wants perfect fucking everything to rent to you. It’s a real crisis.
It has me wishing I could do something to help them, but I know Sloane would never allow it.
As we get to the kitchen, I find a teenager sitting at the table eating toast.
“This is my son, Lee.” Jane points to her son. “This is Gunner, Sloane’s boss.”
Lee looks up at me, his eyes lighting up.
“No shit. You are one of those bikers? I have a million questions. Do you shoot people? Run drugs? I bet you get all the ladies.”
“Knock it off, shithead.” Sloane smacks him on the back of the head as she moves to the cabinet to grab a coffee mug. “He is part of a band of brothers who enjoy going on rides and helping their community. This isn’t a movie. They don’t have shootouts or torture people in a shed.”
Lee looks at me as if wanting confirmation. I wink in response, making him smile.
I mean, I get what she is saying, but I have also done both of those things. Many times. So I can’t exactly back her on that, but I won’t let her or her mother think poorly of us.
“Are you keeping my daughter safe at work, Gunner?” Jane asks as Sloane slides a coffee mug my way.
“Mom, I can keep myself safe.”
“Yes, ma’am. It’s why I want to fix her car. I know you both seem proud. You don’t like accepting help, but we want Sloane to be able to get to and from work safely. Right now, I know she is getting a ride from your neighbor, but I’ve been bringing her home. I don’t mind, but I know Sloane would feel better in her own car.”
Her mother’s face pales at my words.
“She rides on your bike?” she whispers.
I nod. “Don’t worry. She has a helmet, and I drive very carefully with her.”
She nods, but it’s as if she retreats inside herself. “Thank you for keeping her safe. I need to go lie down for a bit.”
Sloane watches her leave, a frown on her face.
“I’m going to check on her. Don’t move,” she says, taking off down the hall.
I face the remaining occupant of the room. He is beaming.
“Can I tell people at school I’m friends with you? No one would mess with me then.”
I frown. “People mess with you often?”
He shrugs. “We are poor. Of course they do. You know the whole, let’s-make-the-lives-of-the-unfortunate-suck-as-much-as-possible type of shit.”
I take in his appearance. He is clean, but his clothes do look a little worn out. Probably really old. I’m sure he is getting flack at school for it.
“You tell them your best friend is the VP of the Saint’s Outlaws. If they keep messing with you, let me know. I’ll take care of it. You know, how about you come help me load your sister’s car up? If you’re interested, I probably even have a few side jobs you can do for me to make some extra money,” I whisper the last part to him.
“They don’t want me to work.”
I nod, understanding. “Our little secret.”
He smiles, nodding. “Let’s go then.”
I know that in that moment, I made my perfect spy. He will be keeping an eye on the troublemaker for me whether he knows it or not.
Sloane will be none the wiser.
Win-win.