Chapter 12
Lydia unhooked her bra and pulled her arms out of the straps, slipping it off without taking off her shirt. Relief came instantly. It was a long eight hours, and she'd quickly learned that Fridays at the diner had twice as many customers as any other day.
A knock rattled the apartment door.
She froze, heart jumping.
Even though Hannah and Madison, two of the six waitresses employed at the diner, lived in the other two apartments on the second floor, no one had ever knocked on her door before. Patty had already left to go home, and the diner was closed.
She tugged her shirt straight and cracked the door open.
Hannah stood on the landing, blonde hair piled in a messy bun, smelling faintly of perfume. "Hey! You wanna go to a party?"
Lydia blinked. "A... party?"
"Yeah." Hannah grinned. "Royalla clubhouse opens its doors on Friday. Madison's already ready to go. You should come."
Royalla.
Her pulse stuttered.
She thought of Baddy, and the way he'd looked at her in the diner earlier. A part of her wanted to see him again.
But wanting was dangerous.
She had a real chance of getting away from motorcycle clubs with the fresh start Baddy gave her. It was as if she was finally going to break away from what her mom had started. She shook her head. "Thanks, but... no. I'm tired. Maybe next week, when my feet aren't killing me."
Hannah shrugged. "Suit yourself. If you change your mind, walk down the street and let the biker at the gate know you're from Patty's. They'll let you in."
"Okay." Lydia doubted that she'd change her mind, but she smiled anyway. "Have fun."
Hannah waved and clattered down the stairs on her high heels, leaving Lydia alone in the quiet hallway. Patty had gone home hours ago. Madison and Hannah were heading to the party. The building was empty.
She shut the door and locked it.
Silence settled around her.
She stripped out of her work clothes, showered, and pulled on the sweats she'd kept from Baddy.
Despite the outfit being too big, the material was soft and worn, surprisingly comfortable to lounge around in.
The apartment was small but functional. A bed, a tiny counter with a microwave and coffee pot, and a bathroom with a stand-up shower.
It wasn't much, but it was hers while she worked, so it almost counted as free housing.
She grabbed the paperback she'd found tucked behind the nightstand, left behind from the previous waitress who roomed above the diner. She'd started the romance novel two nights ago, reading until her eyes burned. It was highly dramatic and made a great escape from her worries.
She flipped to her page.
Just as she was about to start reading, a sharp thunk hit the window beside the bed. She jerked upright, heart slamming against her ribs.
The book slid from her hands.
Another tap followed—lighter this time, like a pebble or someone's knuckle.
She stopped breathing. Someone was outside. On the fire escape.
Slowly, pulse roaring in her ears, Lydia turned toward the window.
And the shadow behind the glass moved.
Lydia rolled, grabbing the knife Baddy gave her off the nightstand. She inched closer, heart pounding so hard it throbbed all the way to her fingertips. With trembling hands, she lifted the edge of the curtain.
Baddy's face appeared on the other side of the glass. She gasped and shoved the window open.
"What are you doing? You scared the hell out of me." She stepped back, making room for him.
He swung one leg over the sill and stepped inside like climbing through windows was something he did every day. His boots hit the floor with a soft thud.
"Only way to see you. I knew what room you were in," he said, brushing off his jeans and eyeing the knife in her hand. "You wouldn't have heard me knock downstairs. And Patty wouldn't appreciate me picking the lock."
She let out a shaky breath, pressing a hand to her chest. "Still. You freaked me out."
He didn't apologize, only grinned.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, voice softer now that her heart rate was slowing down.
He hesitated for half a second. "Wanted to see you."
Warmth rushed through her so fast she had to look away. Her stomach fluttered, and goosebumps broke out on her arms despite wearing the oversized sweatshirt. She set the knife down and crossed her arms, trying to hide the way her pulse jumped when he was around.
"Well... I'm not going to the party." She met his gaze. "I already told Hannah that I'm staying in. I'm tired."
He nodded once, like that was exactly the answer he'd hoped for. "Lie down and get off your feet," he said, jerking his chin toward the bed. "Tell me about your day."
She blinked. "My day?"
"Yeah."
It was strange to have someone ask about her day. At one time, her mom used to ask her how school was that day, but since she graduated and went to work, no one has asked her. She climbed onto the bed. It was the only place to sit, except for the hardback chair in the corner.
She pulled her legs under her and started talking. About the breakfast rush. About Patty teaching her how to balance the plates in a different order. About the regulars who tipped well and the ones who didn't.
Patty has the diner divided into two parts, so whoever I work with will handle one side of the room, and I'll take the other.
Each day, the side I work on can change.
It's up to Patty where we go. That way, we don't hog the good tippers and piss off the other waitress, which is chill.
I've had to deal with some real bitches before.
" She yawned. "But Hannah and Madison seem nice and low-key.
He listened.
Really listened.
After a few minutes, he stretched out beside her, one arm behind his head, boots hanging over the bed. He lay there like it was the most natural thing in the world.
When she finished, she nudged him lightly. "Your turn. What did you do today?"
"Duke nearly dropped a bike lift on his foot.
" He grinned, and the ease of that smile was beautiful.
"I spent most of the day in the garage. We have a sixty-eight Mustang from this older guy who wants a completely new paint and upholstery job.
I hadn't worked on such a nice body in years.
It'll take time away from everything else I need to do before I can complete her, but it's going to look prime afterward.
" He sighed in appreciation. "Anyway, I worked in the garage until four.
After that, I came to the diner and then returned to the clubhouse, where Baker was threatening to walk out of the kitchen if the members kept going in and trashing his area.
Turned out he was yelling at Hunter." He chuckled.
"If you don't know, Hunter's deaf but can read lips if he looks at you. He wasn't looking at Baker."
She yawned. "How old are you?"
"Forty-two."
"Hm."
"Probably seems old to you, huh?"
"Not really," she whispered. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"What's your real name?"
"Will Baddock."
She sighed, rolling the name on her tongue. That's where the name Baddy came from.
"I got you something," he said.
"What?"
"A throwaway phone." He shifted and dug into his back pocket, placing a cell phone on the end table. "My number is programmed on it in case you need me."
"I...thanks," she murmured.
Without taking a breath, he launched into telling her he needs to remember to put oil in his bike tomorrow. His voice was low and steady, rumbling through the quiet room. His affection for his MC brothers was evident in the way he found amusement in their company.
She tried to keep her eyes open.
She really did.
But the warmth of the room, the softness of the bed, and the sound of his voice lulled her into a relaxed state.
Her eyelids grew heavy.
His words quieted.
Her head tipped slightly toward him.
"Come here, sweetheart." Gentle hands pulled her down beside Baddy. "Rest."