Cut Scenes
Just as we begin down a dirt road with giant pine trees along both sides of the road, I’m about to ask where we are going, when the road opens up and a large parking lot comes into view with a lake just beyond it.
When the bike stops, I hop off and he follows, pulling off his helmet and setting it on the seat, then he pushes my hands out of the way and unclips mine gently, pulling it off my head.
“Where are we?” I ask him, looking around. I have grown up in Tennessee my whole life and never been to this place before, and that is surprising because my family spends most of the summer out on the lake tubing and water skiing.
“Just a spot I found a few weeks ago,” he mutters, pulling a bag out of the saddlebag that is attached to the side of his bike, the same bag he put in there when we dropped Capone off at his work, which just happened to be right down the road from my hospital.
When we arrived, I found out that not only did he have a parts shop and car lot, there was a whole compound set up.
When you walk down a short alley between the two buildings, you come to a high gate.
Once you are through the gate, it feels like you are on the set of a prison show.
There is a large open area with two sides blocked in by tall concrete buildings that look like apartments from the outside, with stairwells and walkways that lead from one door to another.
Along the back is a tall chain-link fence with razor wire along the top, and a million cars piled one on top of the other. The area seems almost like a fortress.
Taking my hand, he leads me towards a trail. Tall trees line one side of the path, while the other has a small cliff that goes down to the lake.
“This is really beautiful,” I whisper as we walk hand-in-hand down the dirt path. With birds singing and the sun shining through the trees, it makes for a gorgeous, romantic setting.
“So why did you clam up when Jax brought up your dad?” he asks, catching me off-guard. Looking at him out of the corner of my eye, I think about how to answer that question. “Are you afraid of your dad?”
“Afraid of my dad?” I ask, slowing down to look at him.
“Yeah, are you afraid of your dad?” he growls, narrowing his eyes.
I start laughing and pull my hand from his, covering my face to laugh harder. “Sorry,” I breathe, trying to catch my breath and wipe the tears away from my eyes then lift my head so our gazes connect.
“I have four sisters and a mom my dad is over-protective of, but he’s also my best friend,” I tell him seriously, wanting him to understand I will always be a daddy’s girl.
“I call him and complain when I’ve had a bad day, or to laugh when something funny happens.
He has known every man I have dated, and been indifferent to all of them.
” I look down at the ground and kick a pebble.
“I’m not afraid of my dad, but I respect him and know he will have a lot of questions about you. ”
“Like what?” His brows pull together, and I fight the urge to step closer and run my finger over the ridges that have formed between his eyebrows.
“What I’m doing with a guy like you,” I tell him simply then start to walk again.
“A guy like me?” he asks as his thumb slips into the back of my jeans and his finger hooks through my belt loop.
“A guy like you,” I confirm with a nod, not looking at him.
“What kind of guy am I?” he asks, turning me to face him, and my eyes focus on his face, which looks gorgeous with the way the sunlight is shining through the trees.
“A guy who rides a motorcycle and has tattoos, a guy who doesn’t seem to take no for an answer, but who can apologize when he’s wrong,” I say, knowing some of those are qualities my dad has, and that’s what scares me.
“You don’t believe he would like you dating a biker with tattoos?”
“It’s not that you’re a biker or that you have tattoos.” I shake my head and look around. “Enough about my dad. What are we doing here?” I ask, changing the subject.
He searches my face for a moment then takes my hand again.
“It’s just up here.” We walk for a few more minutes then come to a clearing with a large rock wall.
He pulls a flashlight out of his bag then ducks inside a hole you have to bend double to get through.
I follow behind him and inhale a sharp breath as I enter the cave and look around the large open space.
The walls are white and look smooth and shiny, like they are wet.
A waterfall shoots out of the ceiling into a pool of water that’s in the middle of the cave, and along the edge of the water, large stalagmite formations have formed, some so high they look like they reach the ceiling.
“Holy cow.” I spin in circles, taking everything in. I cannot believe how magical the space is.
“Surprised?” he asks, and I finish my spin and face him.
“It’s amazing! How did you find this place?”
“Me and Everett used to go caving in California. We heard about some of the spots out here and decided to see what we could find. We were on the other side of the hill when we saw an opening, and we came in through there.” He points the flashlight off to the side, where it’s completely dark, but I can still make out a small hole.
“When we got into this section, we saw there was another exit that led to the trail.”
“I had no idea places like this even exist.”
“They’re all over.” He smiles, crossing his arms over his chest.
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