Chapter Five #3
Dozer crushed his cigarette into the ashtray. “It’s family business, as in working for the mafia. McKelle wouldn’t have to worry about your dick, but she’ll have to wonder if your ass is coming home every night.”
Tank laughed. “The mafia wouldn’t let outsiders into their inner circle. We’ll be protecting Luca Bruno and his billionaire bride.”
Ryatt
When McKelle had invited me to follow her home. I hadn’t expected to sit down to a family dinner in a two-story log cabin style mansion and replay the highlights of our session.
There was more food on the table than at a Thanksgiving feast. It was a little strange watching her dad eat. I don’t know why it settled my nerves. Maybe because I had my own quirks. I had some food issues, not like Georgia at NA meetings and her hoarding of cookies, but I’d been hungry.
I still liked ketchup on saltines. I was maybe ten or eleven when I started stealing them from the school lunchroom because most days, that was the only food I’d eat outside of school lunch. Actually, McKelle’s dad’s plate looked like my lunchroom plastic tray. Everything had its own compartment.
“Let me talk to Jay over at the speedway,” her dad said. “I might be able to get some private track time. We can work on your cornering.”
McKelle’s knee excitedly bumped against mine—and then stayed there—connected under the table. The simple touch sent a chemical message to my brain. I was getting bricked up beneath the sunflower tablecloth. My sweats weren’t going to contain the effect her body touching mine had on my dick.
But fuck if I’d move. I gripped my fork, trying to focus on her dad, but I couldn’t help sneaking a quick glance in her direction.
She met my stare and nodded, her enthusiasm palpable. Mine was surging hot through my veins, into my cock, tightening my muscles, and ratcheting my heartrate into the red zone.
“You need to pull up a little quicker when you’re exiting,” her dad continued. “Just a few adjustments and you’ll feel the difference.”
“Sounds great.”
“Cruz watched your laps,” Cece said.
McKelle furrowed her brows as she sat up straighter. I missed the feeling of her knee pressing into mine.
“He watched Ryatt?”
She rolled her eyes. “Probably, but not on the track. He watched your first session,” she said to McKelle. “And then he left.”
“Cece,” Linda cautioned with a tone. “Eat your dinner.” She stood, went to the counter, and added more dinner rolls to the basket on the table.
“He finally got his Heller Raiders patch.” Cece rolled right over the warning. “It’s wicked. He’s going to try and get me one.”
McKelle picked up her fork and pushed her peas around on her plate. “I talked to him.”
She more than talked. He had her cornered, kissing the fuck out of her. Everything about him intimidated me. Not only did he have the brotherhood, but he had the girl. He had the confidence to take what he wanted. Fuck the consequences because there didn’t seem to be any.
She’d broken up with him, but with the way his tongue was down her throat, they weren’t over.
“I did, too,” her dad said. “If he wants to volunteer, he needs to be on time.” He smiled at me. “I appreciate you coming out today. We needed you.”
Linda stood to gather dishes.
“Can I help?” I grabbed my plate and smiled down at McKelle as I grabbed hers, hoping she didn’t notice the outline of my cock. I’m glad the sweats were black, not gray. I followed Linda to the large farmhouse sink.
“Just set those here.” She took the plates from my hand.
“I got this.” She smiled, a warm, mothering smile.
The kind you dream about when you’re ten, listening to your foster mom bitch to her asshole husband because you ate a piece of bread when there was nothing else, and the pains ripping through your stomach were worse than the belt you’d get for sneaking food.
McKelle stood and kissed her mom on the cheek. “Thanks, Mom. We’re going out to the garage.”
We headed out, the screen door clanging shut behind us. “My mom is an equine vet. She rehabs horses.”
Goats maahed as we passed by.
“They’re all assholes,” she said and smiled.
“Jasper is my mom’s favorite. She’s the only one who loves him.
” A small goat was separated from the rest in a private enclosure.
“She has to keep him away from the others for a couple of days. He can’t take a hit.
” She chuckled. “He tried to pick a fight and lost.”
“That sucks. No friends for you, buddy,” I said to the little goat.
McKelle swung open the massive garage door. When we’d come back from the track, I’d helped unload the trailer. My bike rested next to hers. They looked good side by side.
I followed her up the open steps to the loft. She flipped on the recessed lighting and grabbed the remote to the television.
“This is sick,” I said, taking in the open room.
The TV was bigger than my room at the halfway house.
Bookshelves with books, family photos, and trophies lined the far wall.
And there was a vintage pool table that had to be from an old bar in the corner.
It had intricately carved woodwork, and dark green felt.
Large windows opened out to the horse paddocks in the east and the main house to the west. The sun had slipped behind the horizon, the last rays breaking through the leaves of the huge trees around the property.
“Mom has her goats.” She plopped down on the sofa. “Dad has the garage.”
I sat down next to her. The leather couch was deep and comfortable. The kind of couch you napped on or lounged away a Sunday afternoon watching football.
She toed off her sneakers, grabbed the country quilt draped over the padded arm, and spread it over her legs. She still wore the leggings she’d had on earlier and the thin base layer shirt.
I’d been with her all day but suddenly, I couldn’t remember how to speak. The room was too quiet. The atmosphere too intimate. Were we friends? Because I was generally good at picking up vibes from a chick. Until Cece mentioned Cruz, we were definitely vibing.
But I couldn’t say she hadn’t been vibing with Cruz in the back of that garage. Up until she told him to walk.
“I feel like I owe you an explanation.” She released a shaky exhale. “About what happened with me and Cruz.”
I scooted back on the couch and pivoted toward her. “You don’t owe me anything, McKelle. You have history with Cruz. He obviously wants to work it out.”
She ran her fingers along the edge of the quilt. “He says nothing happened with Jinx.”
“He’d be an idiot to fuck around on you.”
She sighed. “We’ve had issues in the past with boundaries. But I don’t think he cheated this time.”
“Fuck him if he’s cheated before. You deserve better.”
“It’s not that. We don’t see our relationship the same way. I thought we had one, but I don’t think he ever did.” She licked her lips. “It feels off to talk to you about Cruz.”
“We don’t have to talk about him.” My gut twisted with insecurity.
Whatever she had going with Cruz wasn’t over, but he could fuck off if he thought his threat was going to keep me away from her.
After a day, she wasn’t ready, maybe she never would be, and I wasn’t expecting her to be.
“Actually, I’d prefer to talk about anything else. ”
“I just…” She took a breath to speak, thought for a moment, then said, “I guess I’m overthinking.”
A soft laugh crawled up my throat. I propped one bent knee on the couch. “Look, I want to hang out more. I had a great time today. But I don’t want to be a rebound boyfriend.” I wanted to be her next boyfriend. “I think you’re beautiful. But I know how to be friends with girls.”
“No expectations.”
“I didn’t say that,” I teased. “You have the trifecta of family. Kickass dad that races bikes, a mom that cooks, and a little sister. Now, you bring me up to this massive room. I’m about to become a level five clinger. Your reality is my fantasy.”
She laughed. “The sweet life. But yeah, I also work for my parents, and I don’t see that changing. At some point, I’ll get a place of my own, but I’m going to be close to home.”
“I’d never leave.”
“Mom always has an intern working for her. She has a guy coming in on the weekends because I’m usually with my dad or…” She paused for a moment then shrugged. “Or I was with Cruz.”
“It’s cool, McKelle.” She didn’t have to avoid his name. At some point, our paths were going to cross. He was a Heller, and so was Romeo. I wasn’t going to avoid the MC just because her ex was there.
McKelle grabbed her phone and opened her social media. “My dad and Jay—I don’t think you met him today, but Dad mentioned him at dinner—have a private coaching business. I run their website and socials.” She handed me her phone.
The top of the website had McKelle nearly parallel to the ground, her left leg hugging the bike and her right knee scraping the track. Her gaze was laser-focused, and her blonde braid followed the line of her spine.
“You have the coolest fucking family I’ve ever met.”
She smiled as I handed her phone back.
“It’s good, but it’s not perfect.” McKelle stood, crossed to the bookcases, and grabbed one of the photos.
When she returned, she sat next to me and handed me a framed photo of a kid on a motocross bike.
His helmet and clothes were splattered with mud, but he wore a wide, toothy grin.
McKelle, with her hair in braids and just as muddy, stood next to him.
“Cayson had just won regionals,” she said.
“I’d started competing, but my brother was a beast on the track.
I can’t even wrap my head around how good he could’ve been.
” Her voice grew quiet as she took the photo back and ran her thumb around the carved wooden frame.
“This was his last race. He was so happy.”