Chapter 5
JACK
Shannon invited me to Jessi’s birthday party a few days ago, personally, of course.
It gave me great satisfaction to decline, especially after all her flirtatious attempts to persuade me.
The party was for Jessi, but as Shannon spoke, I got the hint that it was more for her than for her stepdaughter.
The music rumbles the house again, causing me to rethink my decision to go to bed early. God damn. I’m sure Austin’s on volume control duty. Sighing, I roll out of bed and head downstairs.
Before going to the garage, I squint into the backyard, trying to catch a glimpse of the party over the fence.
Thank fuck I turned down the invite. I can’t imagine what those people would think if I came walking over in my riding boots and black leather vest with Highway Riders scrawled across the back.
My motorcycle club’s cuts are sacred, and most of us members wear them everywhere.
They’re all different depending on the club, but they are almost always a leather vest of some sort.
They are earned and they demand respect.
It’s a far cry from the penguin suits these rich assholes are in.
People like Shannon piss me off the most. She views people like me as an attraction.
She wants to stare and take a ride, but she thinks she is above me.
Not that I care, because I would rather let my dick fall off than burry myself in someone as plastic as her, but they’re all the same. So, I stay on my side of the yard.
In moments, I’m out front, eyeing up my latest bike project and getting to work.
A door slams, causing my attention to jump next door. Someone’s coming out of the house. I think it’s Jessi, but it can’t be. The girl’s short skirt and tight shirt are not Jessi’s style. Whoever she is, though, she’s gorgeous.
When she sits down, I try not to ogle her legs. But damn, she’s hot. And then I freeze. It is Jessi. I recognize her sad eyes and brown-blonde hair.
To be sure, I yell over, “Jessi, is that you?”
Her head snaps up. “Hey,” she says with a wave. A very familiar wave.
Fuck. Why the hell is she dressed like that? There is a house full of Austin’s friends over. Friends that have openly spewed sexist remarks her way. Who is looking out for her? It sure as shit isn’t Austin. Maybe she is giving Shannon a big fuck you? Or does she have a rebellious streak in her?
Her next words send shock waves through me. “Mind if I come over and hang out for a while?”
We have never said more than a few words to each other, so why she’s being neighborly now puts me on high alert.
“Sure.” I cough. “Is everything all right?”
She has lived next to me for over a month, but I’ve seen more of her stepmother than her in that time.
Shannon uses every excuse she can to come over and bat her eyelashes at me.
Seriously, that woman cannot take a hint.
I understand why Jeremy leaves all the time.
I’ve seen Austin a lot too, mostly throwing a football with Jeremy or his friends.
But Jessi, she’s a stranger. She doesn’t spend much time with anyone and keeps to herself.
Whenever I see her come and go, I say hi.
We make small talk. I ask if she’s okay.
My gut still alarms me about Austin and his treatment of Jessi.
I really don’t like her sharing a roof with him.
My eyes wander as Jessi saunters over. Is she trying to be sexy? Because goddamn, she is. Her eyes are stunning, green with gold flecks. As I catch them, I hope to God she hasn’t noticed me checking out every inch of her.
“Hi,” she says. “Thanks for letting me come over.”
I clear my throat and try to brush off the power she has over me simply by standing next to me.
“Not a problem. Is everything okay?” She keeps her gaze lasered on the ground, and when she brings her eyes back to mine, I see familiar sadness flash behind them.
She nibbles her bottom lip, and I try not to wonder what she tastes like.
“Yeah. The party got a bit stuffy for me, too many asshole football players and people with fake small talk and money.”
I laugh. “You decided to leave your own birthday party? That’s awful.”
“You wouldn’t know it was mine, really,” she says. “Shannon’s doing a great job of drawing attention to herself. She did have everyone sing, though.”
“How nice of her.”
“And she called me a whore.”
I stare at Jessi. “Did you tell your dad?”
Her gaze drops. “No. He wouldn’t stand up to her anyway if I had.”
The desire to defend this young woman overwhelms me. I clench my fists, sliding my gaze over her. “The hypocrisy,” I say.
She smirks, then points toward her house with her thumb. “My one friend is still in there, sticking her tongue down some guy’s throat. I didn’t want to make her leave early and beg to crash at her house tonight, so I came out here.”
I rub the back of my head and huff out a chuckle at her honesty. “Okay. Well, stay as long as you like. You want a beer? Oh, wait, you’re . . .”
She hesitates sheepishly, but saunters over to me with her hands on her hips. “I’m nineteen, but considering I can walk home, I think it’s okay. Don’t you? Anyway, I feel safer having a drink here than in there right now.” She winks.
My dick twitches. My chest swells at the insinuation that she trusts me, but if she knew what I was thinking, I’m sure she’d run.
“Oh yeah. You could, but I would feel really shitty if I sent you back home tipsy to a house full of assholes.” I grab a beer and hand her a bottle of Coke. “Let’s keep you sober.”
“Thank you,” she says, taking her bottom lip between her teeth again.
Damn. “Want me to clear off—” Before I can finish my thought, she pops herself onto my workbench and swings her toned legs in my direction.
“This okay?” she asks. “You can keep working on your bike. I don’t want to bother you. I’m just thankful to be out of there.”
I brush my hair out of my eyes. “Yeah, that’s fine. You can sit up there.” I quickly turn toward my bike to hide the bulge growing in my jeans. I’m fully aware I can see right up her skirt.
She is nineteen.
She is nineteen.
She is the hottest fucking thing I have ever seen in my life, and she is sitting on my workbench.
She is nineteen.
Somehow, I gain enough composure to direct my attention back to my bike.
“I see you out here working a lot,” Jessi says.
“Yeah, I need to make sure I treat her well, or I run the risk of getting into trouble on the road. Sometimes I’m doing aftermarket changes, like replacing exhausts. Sometimes bigger overhauls.”
“Cool. How long have you had her?”
“Several years.” I pause. “You surprise me, Jessi.”
“Why’s that?”
“I never thought a nineteen-year-old girl would care about the mechanics of a bike.”
She laughs. “I like getting to know you, Jack.”
I can’t help myself anymore. I need to know what happened that made her leave her own birthday party. She’s never asked to come over. Something is up. Something happened. “So, you want to tell me what happened over there?” I tilt my head toward her house.
She grabs the edge of my workbench, swinging her feet more and avoiding my stare. “I guess I should answer since you are letting me crash your evening.”
I wipe my hands on a rag as I walk over to her. I lean against the bench and cross my arms, leaving a sliver of space between us. “You’re not crashing my evening. You’re improving it, darlin’.” I lean toward her and whisper, “Do I have to knock someone out?”
She giggles and nudges me. “Nooooooo. No knocking out necessary. I can’t stand how stuffy and uppity my dad and Shannon’s friends are.
I never wanted the party to begin with, but Shannon said that we ‘needed to introduce ourselves to the neighborhood.’ She likes to brag that our family has money and agreed that we could have our friends over—and by ‘we,’ I mean Austin.
Anyway, after I had enough of the uppity bullshit, I went inside where everyone from school was hanging out.
Then this guy who’s been trying to hook up with me for a while told his buddies that he wanted to get me to do him a favor tonight, so to speak.
I overheard and called him an asshole. I’ve never liked him and never wanted to give him a chance anyway, but he’s definitely not on my list now. ”
I choke on the sip of beer I just took. Holy fuck. I can imagine what kind of “favor” the punk asked for. I slam my beer bottle down so hard it starts to foam over. Jessi jumps, and her eyes widen. “Is he over there right now?” I say, pushing off the workbench.
Jessi grabs my arm. “No. No, you can’t do anything. You are not going over there. You’ll make it worse.”
I resume my place against the workbench.
“No one should ever talk to you or about you like that.” I brush her wrist with my thumb, taking a chance at comforting her while also filling my own need to be closer to her.
“Why do you let people treat you like that? I hear how Shannon and Austin talk to you. Don’t let them belittle you. Stand up for yourself.”
She blinks back tears.
“You’re special, Jessi,” I go on. “You deserve to be respected, loved, and cared for.”
If she were mine, I would worship her. I swing my head side to side. She’ll never be yours, Jack. You’re simply her neighbor.
I push off the workbench again and go back to my bike. Behind me, I hear her scoff.
“What’s so funny?” I say.
“Nothing. Nothing. Never mind.”
I twist toward her and raise my eyebrows. “Tell me.”
“I was imagining how Shannon and Dad would react if our big bad protective neighbor burst into the party in his motorcycle gang jacket to defend my honor during our ‘introduction to the town.’ It would almost be worth it.”
“The only reason I’m not doing exactly that is because you asked me not to.
I have zero tolerance for men disrespecting women.
I don’t care what sort of party is happening or who is attending.
For the record, I wasn’t blowing off your party, I would have gone if I didn’t get the vibe that it was a hoity-toity thing more for Shannon than for you. Looks like I got that right.”
I return to my bike and keep my distance.
“Oh, and another thing. This ‘motorcycle gang jacket,’ we call them cuts, and those who have any affiliation with us typically say MC for motorcycle club, not motorcycle gang,” I say.
“If you’re affiliated with me, then by default you will be affiliated with the MC. ”
“Am I affiliated with you, Jack?”
I pause, my arm resting on one knee, while I kneel next to my bike. “Do you wanna be?”
A car pulls into my drive and Sam, a local who recently lost his job, hops from the passenger seat. I give his wife, Deb, a wave as she reverses out of the drive.
“Hey Sam! Your bike is running good as new,” I tell him and point across the garage to a tarp covering his speedster, which I restored a few days ago.
“Jack, I can’t thank you enough. You know how much I enjoy riding, and you doing this for free is too much, man. I owe you.”
“Sam, you’re a good guy. You don’t owe me anything.” I dig out an envelope and place it in his hand with the keys. “This should help cover some of your expenses for the next few months. Take Deb out for a nice dinner. God knows she deserves it, putting up with your old ass.”
Sam chokes up. “Jack, I can’t.”
“You can and you will. Now get out of here. I have company and another bike that needs work.”
“Thank you, Jack,” Sam stutters. “Enjoy the rest of your night.”
I help Sam with the tarp and wave as he climbs aboard and starts the engine. He’s wheeling away less than a minute later.
Jessi hops off my workbench, tilting her head. “That was nice of you.”
“Comes with the territory,” I say. “I try to be a nice guy. Mostly.”
She grins then sighs. “I guess I should head back. I’ve overstayed my welcome, and Dad and Shannon are probably looking for me. Sorry for keeping you away from your work. I do really appreciate you letting me stay here for a bit.” She pauses. “I’m happy to know you, Mr. Nice Guy Jack.”
She passes me the empty Coke bottle, and my hand covers hers. “You are always welcome,” I tell her. “It was nice to have company for once. I’m normally out here alone.”
She bites her lip again, and her piercing green eyes peer straight into my soul when she says, “I can’t for the life of me think of a reason that you would ever be alone, Jack.”
Before I can string another sentence together, she bats her stunning lashes and walks out of my garage.