4. Willow
4
WILLOW
What kind of monster drops by without calling? Nobody does that anymore, and definitely not around here. Not even the people trying to save souls bother with my neighborhood these days.
Crap. I can’t go hide upstairs in my office without passing through the living room where whoever it is might spot me. I consider making a run for it anyways and pretending I’m not home, but I’m just desperate enough to avoid work that I’m willing to brave someone at the door.
The shadows of several tall figures are visible through my front window and the frosted glass in the top of the front door. Tugging the edge of the living room curtains aside, I peek out and find myself looking straight into Dragon’s striking, dark eyes. Caught, I smile weakly. He says something that I can’t hear, and then cocks his head towards the front door in a silent, “Come on, lady. We know you’re in there.”
I must’ve thought too hard about them and manifested bikers on my porch.
I lick my lips and slip a hair elastic off my wrist to pull my hair back in a messy, looped ponytail. I’m wearing my work clothes—yoga pants and a cropped t-shirt—so not exactly dressed for company but close enough.
All three are out there, and this time they look like they mean business, proudly wearing the black leather vests that mark them as members of a motorcycle club. Skyhigh is facing away, giving me a close up of the club logo on the back: a scary looking skull in front of some sort of mechanical parts that are probably motorcycle related. In capital letters, curved to fit around the top of the design, it says Outlaw Sons MC.
Somehow it makes the visit feel formal.
I flip the lock and open the door a crack. There’s no reason to believe they’re here to cause trouble, but they’re not exactly boy scouts. “Can I help you?”
Blackout smiles, softening his rough features. “Other way round. We’re here to help you, honey.” The deep, velvety way he says it, with just a hint of rasp, would sell a million audio books.
Help me? I’m not convinced. “With what exactly? Selling the house? Like I said before, I’m not interested.”
Skyhigh steps forward, a grin on his face and cap in hand like a good little boy, but it’s like watching a wolf pretend to be a sheep. “Is it too much to believe that we’re here because we wanted to make sure you were okay after yesterday?”
“Honestly, a little, yeah,” I answer, relaxing enough to let the door open further.
All it takes is that tiny little slip and Dragon puts his hand on the door and easily pushes it open. All three are quick to take advantage of the opportunity and let themselves into my house.
“Hey! Where are you going?”
“The yard. Didn’t think you’d appreciate us just climbing the fence without asking,” Blackout answers without stopping.
I rush past to cut them off in the dining room. “You still haven’t asked! Back outside! Did you hear me invite you in?”
Blackout laughs. “We’re not vampires, honey.”
“Maybe if you were, you’d be a little more polite.”
They stop, looming huge in my little dining room. At just over a thousand square feet, by modern standards this is a small house, but it didn’t really feel that way until it was invaded by giants. It’s not so much that they’re tall and broad, though that’s true, but it’s the way they carry themselves, completely unafraid to command the space. Man, I wish they were older, or uglier or something, because my brain is telling me to kick them out, but my ovaries are about to hop out and do a little, “Coffee? Tea? Me?”
Dragon looks at the dining room table and his eyebrows go up.
Oh.
Oh no.
“What’s this?” he asks, picking up one of the dozen cover design ideas Colleen sent over.
“Nothing!” I try to snatch it out of his hand but he moves too fast, and while I’m focused on him, the other two head straight for the rest of the images.
“Trillionaire Shadow Daddy?” Blackout reads.
I want to crawl into a hole and hide, but I’m not that lucky. “It’s just a funny placeholder title.”
Dragon holds his up. “Fake Bride for the Dragon CEO?”
“Place. Holder,” I grit out.
“Okay, yeah, but, Mother Pucking Faeries ?” Skyhigh lets out a deep belly laugh. “I like that one. What the hell are you doing over here?”
“Writing. At least when I’m not uncovering bones or defending myself from you three.” I snatch the printouts away from them one by one, glaring. “I’m an author, okay?”
“Never been much of a reader,” Blackout muses. “But maybe I should give it another shot. This looks more fun than Shakespeare. Lots of fucking in your books?”
Is it hot in here? I can feel every inch as the blush crawls up my neck and turns my face into a tomato. I’m not ashamed of what I do, but I know damn well how a lot of people react to finding out. It takes me waaaay too long to answer. “No?”
Skyhigh’s grin is downright dirty as he nods at me. “I get it. Mommy porn, nice. Noticed you didn’t have a regular schedule, but I figured you were over here doing phone sales or some work from home shit.”
The amount he knows about me when I thought they weren’t paying attention is a little concerning. “Why are you watching my schedule? It shouldn’t matter what I do. And anyway, is there a reason you guys are here?” I cross my arms over my chest, then change my mind and drop them when all three sets of eyes zoom straight in on the cleavage that peeks out of my scoop neck tee.
Dragon’s dark gaze rakes down my body and back up to my face, lingering just long enough to make it clear he doesn’t mind what he sees. “You’re in the fucking heart of our territory, of course we’ve been watching.”
“Don’t make it sound so fucking ominous,” Skyhigh grumbles under his breath. “It’s not like we’re spying on you, Willow. We just pay attention and it’s obvious your car is here most of the time. Look, we came by because we saw how much work you had to do in the yard and wanted to offer our help. We have a lot to do on the other houses, so a little more is no skin off our backs. Show us what your plan is, and we’ll take care of the heavy work.”
My whole life people have underestimated me. I’m five foot two on a good day and I was raised by hippies. Even if I’m nothing like my parents, I still look like I know my way around crystals and a tarot deck. Men tend to take one look at me, and see a helpless little bunny that needs their protection in the big bad real world.
Letting guys feel like big strong alpha men is usually easier and faster than convincing them to back off, but I’ve learned the hard way that most help doesn’t come for free. “Why? I don’t even know you.”
“Can’t we just be neighborly?” Blackout asks. He scowls at me when I snort out a laugh.
“Sorry, I just… Really? Neighborly? Okay, Mr. Rogers.”
Blackout’s lips thin and he growls softly. He looks like he came out of the womb itching for a brawl, and with the scars and broken nose, I’m not sure it isn’t true, but he’s been too nice to scare me. I remember very clearly how protective he was when I was scared. How he went straight to me and didn’t leave my side until we knew it was safe. I growl right back which sends his eyebrows soaring.
They are all so different. Skyhigh radiates trouble, but you could take him to a tailgate party and if he behaved himself he would fit right in with the boys. And Dragon, in spite of the aura of violence simmering just beneath his skin, could be every woman’s fantasy of a bad boy CEO with a morally questionable past if you cleaned him up and put him in a suit and tie.
“Look, I appreciate the offer, but I’m really not doing anything fancy. All I want to do is clean up the yard and dig a couple beds to see if I can get some vegetables to grow. I’m not putting up a shed or anything.”
Skyhigh sighs. “All the more reason to just accept our help. You’re a pretty woman living alone on a street that’s under our protection. We can get it done a lot faster, and if you manage to grow something, maybe some of our people will be interested in doing the same.”
“Biker gardeners?” I ask incredulously. Although… That would make a funny cozy mystery setup. I file it away for later.
“Something wrong with that?” Blackout asks. “Only difference between a garden and a farm is how much fucking land you use, and nobody talks shit about a guy for being a farmer.”
I raise my hands in apology. “Fair point.”
That doesn’t mean I believe a word of what they’re telling me. They’re no more farmers than I am queen of Norway.
But… If they’re actually volunteering to do the heavy lifting, that would save me lots of time and tears. And my desk does overlook the backyard. I managed to write more after their last visit than I had in a month. There are worse views to look at while trying to write about sexy men.
Skyhigh cocks his head, blue eyes flashing in challenge. “So, you going to show us what to do? Or are you so fucking stubborn that you’d rather break your pretty back doing what we can finish by the end of the week?”
Ooooh, that almost makes me want to throw the offer back in his sexy, smug face, but now it would just make me look petty. “ Fine . Follow me. I’ll show you where the tools are.” I give them a significant look. “The other tools, I mean.”