Chapter 5
Annalese
Y esterday when I’d gotten discharged, I pretty much crashed the moment I fell into bed. Haze was working early, so he was up and out before I woke. However, there’s a sweet note for me on the kitchen table, telling me where to find everything I need for breakfast. Opening the cupboards and refrigerator, it looks like he’s stocked the kitchen especially, because I’m not sure a rough biker would be drinking freshly squeezed orange juice. There’s also a plate of what looks like homemade blueberry pancakes, and assorted syrups and spreads.
At the bottom of the note there are instructions to shout through to the shop if I can’t find anything or need help, and I’m touched by his thoughtfulness.
I’m struggling through my morning routine, and would dearly like help, but I’m a bit embarrassed to ask. I’d love to take a shower but since I had one before leaving rehab yesterday morning, I’m going to skip it. Showering is going to be difficult because I have a rubber sleeve I’ve got to work snugly over my cast. It’s hard to do with one hand, and it was painful because I kept accidentally pulling on my arm. I guess I’ll ask Haze to help me put it on tonight or tomorrow.
I end up wearing yoga pants and a t-shirt. It’s not the best look for me but I’m grateful the wives brought me several outfits while I was in the rehabilitation facility. Otherwise, I’d probably still be wearing the scrubs they gave me in the hospital when I complained about my backside hanging out of the hospital gown, they originally gave me. Haze only has a comb, so it takes me a while to get all the tangles out of my hair. It’s frustrating, but I plan to get myself a brush if at all humanly possible today.
Haze’s note said that he was working a half day, and in the afternoon, he had a surprise lined up for me. I wondered what that surprise was, to be honest just being out of the rehab facility was enough for me.
I eat breakfast, though given the time it’s more like an early lunch, then go back to my bedroom to finish getting dressed. Leaning over, I stare at myself in the mirror. I don’t yet have makeup to cover the slowly fading scar running along my hairline, so I pull my hair forward in an attempt to cover it. I slip my feet into a pair of black flats and walk out to the tiny space that serves as a living room.
Before I can sit down, Haze comes storming through the door. He looks irritated until he sees me. I watch as his face slowly lights up. “You’re looking particularly beautiful today, Anna. Are you ready to shop your pretty ass off?”
I can’t help but laugh at his turn of phrase. Haze has clearly been working hard all morning. I can tell because he normally pulls his hair back at the nape of his neck in a ponytail. Today, multiple strands have slipped out, making him look a bit like a sprouting bean.
He sees me looking at his hair and immediately begins smoothing it back. He pulls out the black band and gathers it up again. “Do I look pretty now?” he asks with a grin. “Can’t have you seen about town with man with bad hair, especially since you’re so well put together.”
“Messy hair just means you’ve been working hard. I doubt anyone would judge a drop-dead gorgeous biker for having a hair out of place. They would probably think imperfect hair went with the cut and tattoos to create a rough and rugged esthetic.”
His face lights up with a sexy smile as he practically stalks closer. “Wait, what? Go back to the part about me being drop dead gorgeous. I want to hear more about that.”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t pretend like that’s some kind of news flash.” Gesturing towards his torso, I add, “You’ve got muscles sitting on top of muscles. I’ll bet you have women drooling all over you wherever you go.”
He moves closer. “Not as much as you would think. I was always the class clown and didn’t really come into my own until I joined the Savage Legion and started working out with my club brothers. My brother and I used to joke that the Savage part of their club’s name was because of relentlessly savage workouts they roped us all into.”
I squint up at him. “What are saying? That your club brothers forced you to work out in order to get patched into the club?”
He looks amused. “Hell no. They showed us the way, gave us all the tools we needed to take fitness to the next level. It was our own competitiveness that drove us to bulk up.”
“You didn’t take steroids, or anything did you?” The minute the words fly out of my mouth I realize how invasive that question was. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to ask you such a personal question.”
His expression is now blank. He reaches out for my hand and loops it through his crooked arm, like in an old-fashioned movie. “Sweetheart, you can ask me anything. If I don’t want to answer, I’ll be upfront about it. Trust me, I’m not shy about speaking up for myself.”
I glance up at him as he guides me to the door. We step out onto the floor of the tattoo shop. I see his brother inking away and another older man in the third spot. Haze yells across the shop floor. “Hey Vapor, I’ve been thinking about hitting the roids to help me bulk up some more. What do you think?”
His brother stops tattooing long enough to shoot him a dirty look. “I will personally beat your ass if you put that shit into your body.”
“To be honest, I wasn’t married to the idea,” Haze tells him in a voice tinged with amusement.
The older man speaks up. “Calm the fuck down, Vapor. Your brother is yanking your chain. He ain’t quite stupid enough to hit the roids. That shit’ll make your balls shrink.”
His brother went back to tattooing the twenty-something woman he was working on. I could hear him grumbling, “Asshole thinks he’s a goddamn comedian.”
Haze glances down at me and shrugs. “Guess I’m not doing roids.”
I just shake my head. “You love to stir up some drama, don’t you?”
He reaches out with his free hand and pats mine. “Don’t worry, as long as you’re with me things will never get boring.”
“It must be nice to have such a tame life that you have to go out of your way to create drama.”
“Tame?” he raises his eyebrow and wiggles it suggestively.
Despite myself I start giggling.
“I guess I’m at least housebroken,” he says as he reaches for his leather vest. He looks like he’s ready to head to the door, but then he stops and spins around, “Did you have something to eat yet? I don’t wanna drag you out if you want breakfast first, or we can go to a café or something?”
“I’m okay, I had the orange juice and pancakes. By the way, did you make those? They were delicious.”
Haze laughs, “I might be a pretty face but I’m no cook. The pancakes are courtesy of Harvey, he’s one of our prospects, dude sure knows his way around a kitchen.”
By this time, we’re moving towards the side door. Instead of going to his bike, he takes me to his convertible. When I shoot him a questioning glance, he explains. “Best take the vehicle with space for your packages. The last thing we need is to lose a shopping bag while flying down the interstate. Also on a practical note, riding with you holding on one-armed isn’t the safest.”
“Of course. That makes perfect sense. About the shopping, I doubt I’ll be buying enough for it to matter though.”
He opens the door for me with a rueful grin. “We can argue about that later.”
As he walks around to get into the driver’s seat it occurs to me that he plans to spoil me. It’s been so long since I’ve been treated to a real shopping spree that I can’t help but get excited. Truly, he doesn’t have to do this, but I can tell how happy it makes him. I decide to play along and just look for bargains wherever we go. We can make a nice day of it without breaking the bank.
***
We start out having lunch at a fancy little bistro near the nature reserve. When we’re at our table with a magnificent view of the forest, I relax. The vibe here is casual, and going by the motorcycles parked out front I wonder if this is owned by his MC, he had told me they had a few businesses around town. “This is a nice place. Do you come here often?”
“Yeah, my club brothers introduced me to this place. It’s owned and operated by an allied club president. Although we like to support fellow bikers when we can, I’d come here regardless because the food is outstanding.” Pausing briefly, he adds excitedly, “Every single thing on the menu is organic and locally sourced.”
I smile at him nerding out about food. It’s kind of cute how enthusiastic he is about eating right.
“I’m sorry I even asked if you did steroids earlier, I can see you’re really into healthy living. After my accident and seeing how long it’s taking my mom to recover from her spinal injury, I really want to get fit again. I guess eating right is part of that,” I say as I look at the menu. If I hadn’t already gathered it was a biker-owned place, the picture of a motorcycle with a cross on the gas tank that graced the front would have told me loud and clear. I opened it and glanced at the choices, it all looked good. Even after my small breakfast I was tempted.
“When you’re up to it, maybe you could start coming to the gym with me. I know you probably don’t want to bulk up like a gorilla, but my gym has a lot of machines designed to give you a good cardiac workout.”
I perked up, immediately interested in working out with him. “I’d love that, if I can afford the membership.”
“Don’t worry about that. We can bring a guest. It won’t cost you a thing as long we go together.”
I perk up, thrilled at the idea of getting back in shape. “That sounds amazing. I’d love to go with you.”
He grabs his glass of water and teases me, “You may change your mind about that when you see how much I sweat. My brother tells me I reek.”
I freeze, because that sounds pretty horrible. When I look at Haze, I realize he waiting with bated breath for me to tell him how disgusting that is.
I don’t fall for his carefully laid trap. Instead, I lean forward and tell him conspiratorially, “I think there is nothing in the world sexier than a big sweaty biker. You don’t have to worry about me getting grossed out. I might lose control and lick the sweat right off your skin.”
The face he makes is hilarious. “Now, you’re the one grossing me out. How did you even do that?”
“You’ve finally met your match and clearly don’t know what to make of it,” I tease him back.
Truthfully, I enjoy spending time with Haze. He has a bit of a quirky personality but I’m slowly growing a real liking for him. Being with someone who is playful and irreverent but has the capacity to get serious when needs be, is the perfect balance for a woman who was raised in a family of men with zero sense of humor.
Granted, they thought they were hilarious. They weren’t. My father and stepbrother most often made me the butt of their jokes. They’d make out that I was oversensitive, but it felt more like bullying at the time.
Not so with Haze. His humor is often self-effacing or situational. I never feel targeted by him in a cruel or disrespectful way. I smile at his shocked response when I gave it right back to him about sweating.
An image jumps into my mind of him covered in sweat, with all his tattoos glistening in the sunlight. Swallowing thickly, I realize that image is all too appealing. Once my brain is spinning on that visual, another one jumps into my mind. One of him naked in the shower with trails of water dripping down his magnificent form. My mouth goes dry, and I automatically reach for my drink. The cool water goes down smoothly. I glance away, embarrassed to be perving on him. I don’t know why I’m even worried about that. This handsome bastard clearly wants to be perved on after all.
Haze is all too perceptive. When I look back at him, he’s wearing a naughty smile. “Just so you know, I wouldn’t mind seeing you sweaty and breathless either.”
I laugh. “Who said anything about being breathless?”
He gives me a sexy smirk. “In my mind, you’re sweaty and breathless because I made you that way, not because we were exercising.”
I deadpan right back, “Sex is exercise. I read somewhere the human body burns up to five hundred calories during an intense sexual encounter.”
One of his eyebrows shoots up.
The server shows up to take our order, just as he murmurs, “I did not know that. It seems like we could use that to our advantage somehow.”
I try not to blush as I open my menu and quickly scan over their offerings. They have a turkey club sandwich that looks like it’s to die for, so I order that with an iced tea. Of course, Haze goes for a big juicy burger, sans the bun, with a side order of sweet potato fries.
When the server walks away, I realize he’s staring at me intently.
I wonder if he’s being judgmental about my choice, he’s clearly into healthy living. “Is this about me carb loading?”
His eyes grow unfocused for a moment as if he’s trying to work his way through my thought process. Finally, he answers my question, “Hell no. I’ve got enough on my plate worrying about my club, my family, and my shop. I don’t have the time, energy or interest in policing what you eat or any damn thing else you choose to do. Men shouldn’t be doing that kind of shit to women.”
He seems genuinely annoyed, so I quickly explain, “My stepmother used to count the carbs I had in a day. Once I hit the limit, I was done eating for the day, whether I wanted to be or not, my dad never commented on it.”
“I can’t believe some people are like that, damn,” he shakes his head.
“My mom wasn’t like that, it was only when I stayed with my dad and his new wife,” I added hurriedly.
“Still, policing someone’s diet is a one-way road to disordered eating.”
I nod, trying to lighten the subject I ask, “What about your parents? You and your brother are pretty cool, so I imagine your parents are good people to have raised you well.”
I obviously said the right thing, because Haze’s face breaks into a massive grin, “Yeah, my mom and dad are the best. They had me and my brother a bit later in life, so they’re both retired now. I’d love you to meet them, but they’re on a road trip right now, just reached Denver.”
“Wow, that sounds amazing,” I say.
“My dad had some cash put away for retirement, they were thinking of doing something boring with it like getting the driveway re-tarmacked, but we told them to go for it. And they did, they got a huge RV, and rented out their house for a year.”
The server arrives with our food, and I wait until she’s laid it down before responding, “Living the dream.”
“Absolutely,” Haze takes a massive bite of his burger. He swallows and says, “Does that appeal to you? Just taking off somewhere?”
I’d had plenty of time to think of my life’s choices while stuck in the hospital bed, “It does. Either taking off on a road trip or sailing away to a desert island.”
I see something flash across his face at that. “You like boats?” he asks.
I let out a sigh, I’d been trying not to think about my shitty life. Before my parents got divorced, I’d remembered many childhood vacations where my dad, mom, and me would go sailing on my father’s yacht. Obviously, once he got remarried, that was way in the past. I tried to shake away the memory, “I did, but it’s been a while since I sailed.”
“Maybe that’s something we need to remedy,” he says with a lazy smile.
I wasn’t sure what he meant, seeing as Las Salinas was quite a drive from the coast, it was a nice dream anyway. With that we went back to our meal.
.