CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Eyes fluttering open, I turn my head on the pillow and find the spot beside me empty.
Again.
For the third morning in a row.
Yes. I’ve been staying here in Tacoma’s house and sleeping in his bed for the last three days.
That’s crazy, right?
I mean, we barely know each other.
But this has been the norm.
Every morning it’s the same thing.
I wake up alone, and shortly after, Tacoma rolls back in from dropping off his kids at school.
Once he’s back, he crawls up the foot of the bed and wraps himself around me like an octopus, where he proceeds to worship my body in the most delicious ways.
A smile steals across my face as my toes curl under the covers just thinking about the way he makes my body sing.
After he’s fucked me boneless, he kisses me soft and sweet, like we have all the time in the world to be wrapped up in each other.
It isn't’ just fucking, though.
Every time he’s inside of me, it feels like he’s touching my soul.
It’s perfect and simple and everything.
Our mornings don’t stop there, though.
No, not even close.
He brings me breakfast.
In bed.
And again, this is freaking crazy right?
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not mad at all that he’s completely naked when he delivers my breakfast.
I thoroughly enjoy the view.
I enjoy it even more when he drags me out of bed and into the shower, where he washes every inch of my body before getting me all dirty again.
The man might be forty-three, but he’s a powerhouse.
He’s perfect.
The last few days have been perfect.
And that sorta scares the shit out of me.
Because I know I can’t stay here forever.
My brother’s calling every day, nonstop, leaving voicemails demanding to know when I’m coming home.
Don’t even get me started on the text messages. They’re becoming increasingly aggressive.
Have I fully opened any of them?
Not on your life.
I’ve been a coward, reading them through the notification bubble.
Don’t judge me.
The last thing I want to do is let my overbearing big brother know I’ve read them.
Uh…no. Hell no. Nope.
I’m hiding out like a big ol’ coward.
Don’t judge. I know it’s a chicken shit move, but my big brother can be a real asshole sometimes, and I hate feeling like I’m disappointing him.
On one hand, he doesn’t need to know what I’m doing.
I’m an adult, and I don’t answer to him, something I told my grandfather last night when he called.
But on the other hand, he’s my big brother, and I love him. Even if he does drive me up the fucking wall.
Ugh! I don’t know what to do, but I do know that I can’t keep hiding.
Panda’s chittering as he scurries through the bedroom door and up onto the bed pulls me from my thoughts.
“Oof.” I giggle-grunt when the fat butterball pounces right on my belly. “You’re so crazy.” I give him a scratch under his chin, and his eyes close, savoring the touch.
I love this little shit.
Grabbing my phone off the bedside table, I glance down at the screen and see multiple missed calls from Mason.
I groan, knowing I can’t put this off any longer.
Reluctant as a mofo, I press the call button and bring the phone to my ear, bracing for the explosion that I know is coming.
It only rings twice before my brother is barking down the line. “Where the fuck have you been?”
I roll my eyes. “Well, good morning to you, sunshine.”
“Quit the bullshit, Cali. What the fuck is going on? Are you still in Odin?”
I take a deep breath, trying to keep my voice steady. “Yes, I’m still in Odin.”
“Why?” His voice is sharp, demanding. “You were supposed to be back days ago.”
“I needed some time.”
He growls, the sound making my blood pressure spike. “Time for what? To fuck Tacoma?”
“Jesus, Mason! That’s none of your business.” I sit up straighter, clutching the sheet to my chest even though he can’t see me.
“It is my fucking business when it affects the club,” he snaps. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing? What kind of position you’re putting me in?”
I feel my temper flaring. “I’m not putting you in any position. I’m a grown woman, Mason. I don’t answer to you.”
“You wouldn’t have to answer to me if you’d stop acting like a child!” His voice rises. “Living in a damn RV and now shacking up with a man you just met. What’s next? You gonna play mommy to his kids?”
His words hit like a physical blow, and I flinch. “That was a low blow.”
“Well, someone needs to knock some sense into you.” He sighs, his voice softening slightly. “Look, Cal, I’m worried about you. This isn’t like you.”
“You don’t even know what I’m like anymore,” I whisper, hurt blooming in my chest. “When was the last time you actually asked me about my life instead of just telling me what to do?”
“I’m trying to protect you!”
“I don’t need your protection!” I shout, startling Panda, who scurries to the end of the bed. “I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it for years.”
“You’re threatening the arrangement we have with the Kings,” he says, his voice going cold. “Is that what you want? To cause problems between our clubs?”
That comment makes my stomach drop.
Am I making a huge mistake being here?
Am I coming between Tacoma’s club and the Saints?
“I’m not trying to cause problems,” I say, my voice smaller now.
“Well, you are. So get your shit together and come home. Now.”
Angry tears burn in my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. “No.”
“What did you just say to me?”
“I said no.” I clench my jaw. “You need to back the hell off.”
The sound of glass breaking is audible over the line. “Cali—”
“No, Mason. I’m done with this conversation.”
I hang up before he can respond, then throw my phone across the bed.
“Shit!” I press the heels of my hands against my eyes, but it’s too late. The tears I’ve been fighting spill over, leaving hot tracks down my cheeks.
He’s such a fucking asshole!
I fall back onto the pillow and blow out a breath.
What if he’s right?
What if seeing Tacoma does cause issues with their clubs?
The thought makes more tears come, and I cover my eyes with the back of my arm. Panda scurries back up and nudges me with his nose, making concerned little sounds.
I don’t hear the bedroom door open, but suddenly the mattress dips, and strong arms wrap around me.
“Angel? What’s wrong?”
I lift my arm to find Tacoma sitting beside me, his blue eyes dark with concern. He reaches up and wipes a tear from my cheek with his thumb.
“Nothing,” I say automatically, then shake my head. “Everything. I don’t know.”
“Talk to me, baby.” His voice is gentle, patient.
I take a shuddering breath. “I finally called my brother back.”
Tacoma’s jaw tightens slightly. “I take it that didn’t go well.”
“That’s putting it mildly.” I wipe at my cheeks with the back of my hand. “He’s pissed that I’m still here. Says I’m going to cause problems between the clubs.”
Tacoma sighs, running a hand through his dark hair. “Yeah, about that...”
My brows pull together. “What?”
“Your brother called me the other night. After we... well, after I brought you back here”
My mouth falls open. “He called you? And you didn’t tell me?”
“I’m telling you now,” he says, his expression serious. “He wasn’t happy.”
“What did he say?” I ask, pretty sure I already know what the answer is.
“Made some idle threats. Said I was too old for you. Called me a piece of shit.” Tacoma’s lips twitch slightly. “Standard big brother stuff.”
I should be angry that he kept this from me, but instead, I feel a rush of appreciation for his honesty now. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
His pupils dilate. “I didn’t give a fuck what he had to say. Still don’t. You’re mine, Angel. Every fucking inch of you.”
“Be serious. What if he really does pull the Saints’ business? Won’t that cause problems for you? For the Kings?”
Tacoma takes my hand, his thumb stroking over my knuckles. “Come on. Let’s get some coffee and talk about this on the deck.”
He helps me out of bed, and I grab one of his t-shirts from the dresser, pulling it over my head. It falls to mid-thigh, and I follow him downstairs to the kitchen.
While he makes coffee, I watch him move around the space. He’s wearing nothing but low-slung sweatpants, and my eyes linger on the tattoos covering his broad back.
Once the coffee is made, he hands me a mug and leads me out to the back deck. The morning air is warm with a gentle breeze coming off the Gulf.
Hand to god, this place feels like heaven the longer I’m here.
“Have a seat, baby.” He pats the spot on the outdoor sofa.
I drop down next to him and tuck my legs up underneath me, careful not to spill my coffee.
“To answer your question,” he starts after taking a sip of his coffee, “your brother doesn’t have as much power as he’s making you think he does.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“The Kings’ deal was made with the mother chapter in California. Riddick is the president there, and he’s the one who calls the shots. Not Chief.”
“So my brother couldn’t really pull the Saints’ business?”
Tacoma’s lips quirk up at the corners. “He could try, but Riddick wouldn’t let him. The arrangement is too profitable for both our clubs. And Riddick doesn’t give a shit who I’m fucking as long as the cash keeps flowing.”
I wince slightly at his crude phrasing, but the relief that washes over me is immense. “So I’m not causing problems between the clubs?”
“No, baby.” He reaches over and places his hand on my knee, steady and reassuring. “Your brother’s just being protective. I get it. If I had a little sister and some older man was all over her, I’d probably react the same way.”
I lean into his side, resting my head on his shoulder. “He called me a child. Said I was playing house with you.”
Tacoma’s hand tightens on my knee. “You’re not a child. Far from it.”
“I know, but—”
The sound of car doors slamming interrupts me, and we both turn to see Eagle’s truck pulling into the driveway. A moment later, Saylor comes running around the side of the house toward the deck, Jagger following at a slower pace.
“Cali! Daddy!” Saylor calls, waving frantically.