Chapter 1
It’s Complicated
Motown
I haven’t been back to Suds Up since the night I met my fairy princess.
That’s how I think of Tessa. She’s a good-natured, loving woman who truly believes that even the worst human has good in them sometimes.
I swear that when I look at her, I expect to see fairy dust sparkling around her.
Tessa is untainted by the ugliness I’ve seen.
Maybe that’s why I was drawn to her from the moment I saw her.
Opposites attract; she represents good, and God knows, I’m not a good man.
She was wearing a worn pair of jeans, frayed at the ends, with pink stitching on the pockets, a flowery pink shirt, and ballet-style slip-on shoes, which made her look even more like a fragile doll.
Tessa was uncomfortable in the bar, and you could see she was hesitant to meet Ruth.
But even Ruth couldn’t maintain her overbearing, curt nature around Tessa.
Tessa has been back to the bar since then, but only to visit Ruth and never for very long.
Bars aren’t her scene. I know this because I’ve been keeping tabs on her.
I admit, I realize the insanity of it all.
I made myself a promise to never pull a good woman into the life I’ve chosen to lead.
I’ve seen too many marriages fall apart even without the added strain of having a man who wants to ride and be free at a moment’s notice.
I’m that kind of man, and Tessa is a woman who puts down roots, makes friends, and turns them into family.
Her magic even made Ruth, the toughest woman I know, break down and visit her for tea and cookies.
It started with doing a good deed for a nice lady.
That fateful night, I followed her to her house, after getting her car going, to make sure she made it back safely to her place.
I walked Tessa to the door, and that’s where I should have left her.
But in her soft, sweet voice, she asked if I’d like a cup of coffee before I headed home.
I made the mistake of walking into her house.
“Babe, this room belongs in a magazine,” I told her. The overstuffed sofa and chair were a cream white, with light pink throw pillows on them. The walls were a muted silver-blue, and the curtains were a sheer, embroidered cream. It was totally Tessa.
“Is that a compliment? Because your face says otherwise,” she replied with a smile. I could imagine my stunned expression. It wasn’t that the room wasn’t beautiful; it was just that I didn’t belong in it. “Have a seat. The coffee will just be a minute,” she said, walking to her kitchen.
I couldn’t bring myself to sit on her fancy sofa, so I followed her into the kitchen. It was small, with just enough space for her to move around the sink and cupboards, but she had a table for two by the window. I sat there and prayed the chair could hold my weight.
“Thanks for helping me tonight,” she said, breaking the silence. “I’ve been working so hard to get the shop open, I’ve been a little scattered lately. I hope this isn’t too far out of your way.”
“It’s not a problem, but your battery is done.
I’ll have one of the guys bring one by and install it in the morning,” I said, because I decided right then and there that I couldn’t see Tessa again.
She was too beautiful for words, and I could fall in love with her.
I decided to let myself have this moment, then walk away before I ruined both our lives.
She set the coffee down and sat across from me.
We talked for hours. She told me about her parents, who were recently retired back in Idaho.
They ran a dairy farm, which they passed along to her brother and his wife.
I heard all about her two nephews and her high school nemesis, who was the typical mean girl in school.
Tessa went to college for a business degree with the intention of opening her own store, and now she’s living her dream.
“This is all I need,” she said that night, waving her arms to encompass her tiny house.
“No flashy car or Jimmy Choo shoes?” I teased.
“My car works just fine, well, after I get a new battery.” She giggled, “And you have no idea how uncomfortable high heels can be. I’m on my feet all day. Give me a good pair of sneakers, and I’m happy.”
I was a gentleman, up until the time she walked me to the door.
She went up on her tiptoes and kissed my cheek, whispering, “Thank you.” I don’t know what came over me, but when I looked down at her face, with her perfect pink bow lips beckoning, I couldn’t help but taste them.
It was a light brush of our lips at first. Her lips were so soft; I had to have another taste.
My mouth closed over hers, and she opened for me, letting our tongues duel and play. My arms banded around her tiny waist, and she clung to me. Each time I tore my mouth away to force myself to leave, a mewl escaped from deep in her throat, and her fingers dug into my forearms.
Her eyes were wide, and I knew she wanted me as much as I wanted her. I should have walked out the door. As it was, I knew that our kiss would haunt me for days, but instead, I said, “I don’t do permanent. One time. That’s all I can give you.”
I was convinced she would tell me to go. In fact, I was counting on it.
“Okay,” she whispered, her lips so close that I could feel her warm breath. I told myself she knew the score and pushed away the guilt, lifting her into my arms and carrying her into her bedroom.
I didn’t fuck her once, but three times, until she fell asleep exhausted.
Her body wore nothing but the red marks of my whiskers, her lips were swollen with my kisses, and her hips bore the imprints of my fingers where I held her while plunging deep inside her.
I left her there and walked out the door.
She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever touched, and I can’t get her out of my head.
So now, I sit like a fool outside her shop, hidden behind a line of trees across the street, where she arrives every morning at eight o’clock sharp to get the place ready for the day.
I’ve tried to stay away, but unless I’m on club business, I find myself here, watching her every morning.
It’s almost like Tessa senses that I’m near, because she looks around at her surroundings, and I feel like she’s searching for me.
It’s ridiculous, I know. Why the hell would Tessa need a man like me? She had her taste of the wild side, and she can get back to her normal life now.
“Jesus Christ, boy, are you ever going to get your finger out of your ass and go talk to that girl?” I hear Ruth’s voice as she comes up behind me.
I turn to see her standing with her arms crossed over her well-endowed chest, in a tight Harley T-shirt, tapping the toe of her black boot on the pavement.
“Save it,” I mumble, and I move to walk away. She snags my arm and stops me from going any farther.
“You’re an idiot, you know. She asks about you. I haven’t seen you in months, and Tessa still mentions you.”
“Not meant to be.”
She drops her arm and puts her fists on her hips. “All right, then, maybe I’ll tell Tessa to go out with Bronson Sunderland. He’s been sniffing around her shop for weeks. He’s good-looking, rich—” I know she’s full of shit. She hates Bronson as much as I do. She’s doit it to yank my chain.
“The guy’s an ass and a player,” I jump in, getting royally pissed that she would suggest such a thing.
Bronson Sunderland is also one of the biggest drug dealers in the city.
He doesn’t peddle his shit in our town, but that’s only because we made it clear that the Redemption Riders won’t stand for it, and because he doesn’t want the rest of the county to know how he makes his money.
To everyone else in town, he’s just a smart businessman. Hawk and the club brothers know better.
“True, but at least Tessa will have a little fun. That poor girl does nothing but work. I’m sure Bronson can show her a good time,” Ruth replies with a sly grin.
“The girl needs to have some playtime.” I scowl at her, making her reflect on her words.
“Okay, well, maybe not Bronson, but a good man will come along, and how will you feel then?”
I glare at her. “Are you fucking serious right now?” I ask, wondering if she’s lost her mind.
Ruth looks over my shoulder as a dark blue Mercedes comes down the road, stopping right in front of Tessa’s place, the Cozy Corner Gift Shop.
It’s as if we called the devil himself to show up at our door, because the driver opens the back door and Bronson Sunderland emerges.
My teeth clench so hard, my jaw aches. My entire body goes taut as I watch Bronson move toward Tessa’s door with a big bouquet of roses in his hand.
The fucker’s decided to make his move. Bronson will use her, chew her up, and spit her out.
But I walked away. This is her choice. I tell myself that she’s in control of her life, and she gets to make her own decisions.
Yes, my head is saying all the right things, but my legs have me storming across the street, and before I know it, I’m barreling through the front door of the shop. The bell above it rattles from the force I used to yank it open.
Tessa’s eyes quickly turn to me. She blinks like she’s trying to figure out if she’s seeing things. Her lips part in surprise, and her cheeks become flushed. She’s still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
However, she’s not alone, and Bronson isn’t pleased by the interruption. The flowers are sitting on the counter, and he’s holding Tessa’s hand. She tries to pull it back, but Bronson holds on until she tugs harder, forcing him to let her go before he causes a scene.
Bronson’s expression is that of a man who is thoroughly peeved at being interrupted and totally pissed off that it’s a Redemption Rider who’s doing it. His mask slips for a split second, then his cool facade returns, along with his fake crocodile smile.
“What brings you around, Motown? On your way to the bar?” Bronson says derisively. Tessa steps away from Bronson as soon as the words come out of his mouth. He sees his first mistake and quickly tries to cover his tracks with a chuckle. “Just joking with you. You can take a joke, right?”
My face stays stoic, then I turn to Tessa, who has since stepped back behind the counter. “I’ll pick you up around eight tonight,” I state firmly.
Tessa looks at me like I’ve grown two heads. “Pardon?” she asks in a soft voice, a catch in her throat.
“You heard me, babe. You’re open till eight. I’ll pick you up from the shop,” I continue, pretending like these plans were already in existence.
She shakes her head. “I—”
Before she can get another word out, I reach over the counter and snag a hand behind her head, then close my mouth over hers.
The kiss is brief but firm, taking her breath away.
Anger fills her gaze, but thankfully, Bronson has already left, and, not wanting to start an argument, I stomp out before she can respond.
I hang back until I see Bronson’s car drive away. His windows are tinted, but I have no doubt that his gaze is fixed on me as the car leaves. I’d like to think that his interest in Tessa will cease, but I know better. Bronson has too much of an ego to let this go.
I cross the street to go to my bike, and when I get on, I catch a glimpse of Tessa looking out the window, clearly furious. This is the second time I’ve left without saying a word. The truth is, I don’t know what to say.
Tessa doesn’t need a man like me around.
I’m a biker! An aggressive asshole with a history of making shitty decisions.
I did a stint in juvie before joining the army.
The army was my saving grace. It showed me that I have skills and made me learn a trade.
It also taught me how to kill a man twenty different ways.
I’ve killed men; they were all the enemy, but even the enemy had wives and kids at home.
War is hell, they say, and they’d be right.
You come out of the military, and you question your life choices.
Assimilating back into civilian life was hard.
I was lucky to join the Redemption Riders, who opened their arms to me, accepting me, faults and all.
I knew these men when we fought together, and we decided to stick together to make our club prosper and grow.
My ride takes me to the garage, where I find Drifter and Hawk outside the bay doors. I’m already aware I have a brooding expression, and they see it immediately.
“Want to talk about it, brother?” Hawk asks. Yeah, he knows me. He understands my need for solitude and lets me have it, but not for too long, because he believes that getting it out is better than letting shit sit in your gut for too long.
I blow out a heavy breath and reply, “It’s complicated.”
Drifter’s eyebrows quirk upward with curiosity, and Hawk puts a hand on my shoulder.
“Complicated is what we do best around here,” Hawk responds, then leads me to his office.