4. Maizie #3
I remind myself once again that Wyatt is a brother in the Black Roses, and I’m the single mom who bartends at the bar his club owns.
Acting on my fantasies would be a recipe for disaster.
It’s sure to blow up in my face, and that would hurt my kid, and possibly even put me out of a job.
Not to mention, it would be so easy to let my little crush on Wyatt turn into something deeper, only to be…
well, crushed. Nope. He needs to stay firmly in the friend zone.
The stupidly hot and funny and charming friend zone.
“Get it together, Maizie,” I whisper to myself as I walk into the living room where Colby has his crayons strewn across the coffee table as he furiously colors the paper in front of him.
“What are you drawing, buddy?”
“Wyatt on his motorcycle with me and Pepper on the back.”
God, he really loves that dog. It almost makes me want to get him one of his own. Key word being almost .
I look at the picture and stick-figure Wyatt holding onto the handlebars, wearing a helmet. Colby is behind him with a huge smile on his face. A yellow dog sits behind him with its tongue hanging out of its mouth, wearing a helmet.
“Where’s your helmet?” I ask.
“I gave it to Pepper. I want him to be safe,” he says as he continues to color in the sky.
“Okay, but if you ever ride a motorcycle, you know you have to wear a helmet, right?”
“Of course, Mommy. When Wyatt let me sit on his bike, he made me put one on even though we weren’t moving. He said I always need to practice safety, even if I’m just pretending.”
Well, if that doesn’t just punch me in the heart, I don’t know what would.
I look at my phone and see the time. “Okay, buddy. I’m going to finish getting ready.”
I walk into my room, put on my black boots, throw my hair into a high ponytail, and then there’s a knock at the door.
“It’s Wyatt and Pepper,” Colby yells excitedly.
Moments later, I hear Colby laughing hysterically and Wyatt asking him where I am and if he’s allowed to open the door for people.
“He knows it’s safe for you,” I reply for my son. I walk through the hallway from my bedroom to the front door, where Wyatt is standing. He’s wearing a pair of faded jeans that mold to his long legs and a black T-shirt that hugs his chest.
It’s positively sinful that this man looks this good in something as simple as a pair of jeans and a damn T-shirt.
His colorful tattoos dance over his corded muscles as he reaches out and ruffles Colby’s sandy-blond hair.
The affectionate smile he gives my son melts my heart.
When he turns that smile toward me, a flutter of excitement swirls in my chest.
This is bad. Very, very bad.
“You look nice,” he says, letting his gaze trail over my entire body. That one look turns the little bit of excitement into a flurry of butterflies.
“I always look like this,” I say, obviously terrible at taking any sort of compliment.
“And it’s always good.” Wyatt gives me one of those half smiles that makes it seem as though there’s more meaning behind his words than what he’s saying. Like men do when they flirt with a woman.
Wait, is he flirting with me?
Do I want him to flirt with me?
No .
Jesus, I just went over all the reasons why starting anything with him is a bad idea. Then three seconds into him being in my house, saying something sweet, and I’m questioning my own resolve.
“There’s money on the counter for you guys to order food,” I say, walking into the kitchen and away from Wyatt and the temptation I have no business feeling.
When I slide my phone out of my pocket to throw it in my purse, I see a message from the dating app.
Steven: So if I were to ask you to dinner next week would you say yes?
I smile at the message. This is more my speed. Someone who isn’t involved with the club, who works a nice, normal job, and isn’t one of my bosses.
Me: I would definitely check my schedule. You know, if you were to ask.
Steven: Okay, how about dinner next Saturday? I’ll send you the address of the restaurant, and we can meet there.
Me: You’ve got yourself a date.
This is good. This is safe. This isn’t giving me the butterflies that the man standing in my living room does, but that’s okay.
I haven’t met Steven in person yet, but I’m willing to give him a shot.
It’s not as though I have anything standing in my way, like, say, a six-four biker.
One who is currently standing in my entryway with his dog, here to watch my son for me. Nope, nothing in my way at all.
Steven: Great, I'll send you all the information. I’m really looking forward to meeting you.
Me: Me too.
I turn around, smiling down at my phone, and when I look up, Wyatt is standing less than a foot from me with a slight frown on his face.
He’s looking at the phone in my hand. When he notices me looking at him, his expression quickly clears, and he offers me a charming grin.
But there’s something in his eyes that wasn’t before.
“You talking to a guy from that dating app Lucy set up for you?” He makes it sound casual, but that look is leaving me wondering if it is.
“Yeah, I actually agreed to dinner with one of the guys.”
Wyatt nods. “Good, good. That’s…”
“Good?” I finish for him.
“Yeah. It’s all good, Maizie. You should get out there and meet some people.” The way he says it tells me he isn’t at all thrilled about the idea. And I don’t love hearing it, but what can I possibly expect? I have no idea what to do with that, so I shrug and grab my purse and keys.
“Okay, I really need to get going. Thank you for coming. You have no idea how much I appreciate it.”
“Of course, Maiz. I’m always here to help you out.”
He really is. And that fact thrills me and kills me at the same time.