IVY
T he wild child in me rejoiced at my current situation. I was riding a motorcycle! My arms were wrapped around the most handsome man I’d ever seen! I was heading toward a fresh start!
Best of all, when I told Clint how I wanted to keep my family photos, he didn’t dismiss my needs. No one ever listened to me. Not even the nannies, who feared my mom’s mood swings more than my requests.
Clint was a biker in a motorcycle club. A part of me feared what that might mean for my future. Would he hurt me? Sell me like Uncle Linus?
Something about Clint’s demeanor promised I’d be safe. I knew there was no rational reason to trust him. I’d never put my instincts to the test, but I still felt deep inside how he wouldn’t hurt me.
Holding onto his strong body, I enjoyed the scent coming off his leather jacket wrapped around me. My hair whipped in the strong breeze while my skirt flapped hard against my thighs. I ought to be terrified of falling off the motorcycle. Instead, I molded my body to Clint’s and learned to move with the bike.
The rumble of the motorcycle left me feeling strange, almost detached from myself. Since I was a kid, I imagined many fun adventures starring a better version of me.
Now, I found myself in an actual fun adventure. The Ivy holding onto a sexy stranger needed to be fearless. She ached to be wild and sexy. Why couldn’t I be the Ivy who existed in my head instead of the one I wore on the outside for most of my life?
My heart began to race as we took the Blairsville exit. This place was Clint’s home. If I were lucky enough to remain close to him, Blairsville would become my safe space.
I quickly noticed how the town was a mix of new and old. One block felt ripped out of an old magazine, with quaint red brick buildings and shops with large green awnings.
A block later, we passed several newer subdivisions with boxy homes covered in innocuous siding.
As we moved deeper into town, I noticed Clint gesturing at people. There was an older man on the street while we sat at a light. We passed several younger motorcycle riders—two men and three women—who gave him the bird.
When Clint chuckled in reaction, his deep voice rumbled in his chest with the same power as the motorcycle.
I soaked in the heat of his body and imagined when his beautiful gaze would be on me again. This deliciously sticky and hot feeling in my belly had to be lust. I was addicted to it instantly.
Of course, I’d found men attractive before. But actors, sports figures, and rock stars were only images on my TV. With my arms wrapped around Clint, I was very aware of the reality of my current situation.
Pressing my face against his back, I struggled against my lustful thoughts. Days ago, I’d come face to face with male desire. I’d hoped to never see another strange man up close again.
Yet, Clint inspired me to imagine his hands on my body. What would his kisses taste like? Would I share his bed tonight?
Or possibly, I was reading everything wrong. Instead of obsessing about the unknown, I admired the place I hoped to call home.
The city’s downtown was filled with quaint shops and diverse restaurants. This area seemed fresher than the old-school businesses right off the highway.
We arrived at an industrial-style building with the words “Five Points Lofts” etched in steel on the front.
Rolling into the underground parking garage, Clint parked in what I assumed was his assigned spot next to a four-door black truck.
Despite feeling like a new and improved Ivy, I still tumbled off the bike. Clint slid off the motorcycle with ease. His large hand hooked under my armpit and steadied me.
“Are you okay?” he asked and stared down at me.
Nodding, I was again struck by the sheer weight of his good looks. Offering a little smile, he handed me the only property I had left in the world. I hugged my purse to my chest and stared at Clint.
His smile widened when I admired him for too long. He gestured for us to start walking to the garage door.
“Many of my club guys live in this building,” he explained while waving his key fob in front of the door’s security pad. “If there’s trouble, we’ll have backup.”
“Do you think those men can find me here?” I mumbled, unsure if I should speak or not. “They hadn’t caught up to Uncle Dwight and me yet.”
I frowned at how the men were likely waiting for us to run out of steam somewhere. Maybe Uncle Linus told them about Dwight’s illness. Did they think they could sweep in and grab me once my dying uncle gave up on running? Or were they right behind us, and I barely escaped?
I felt the past tugging me down as soon as I stepped away from my lust for Clint and curiosity about this new life.
“I don’t know who is chasing you, so there’s no way to know how persistent they’ll be,” he replied and entered the elevator. “This building is secure, though.”
“Thank you,” I said rather than declaring my undying affection for my sexy hero.
The control panel revealed four floors and a rooftop terrace. He pressed the button for the fourth floor. As the doors shut, Clint grinned at whatever he saw on my face.
Exiting the elevator, Clint guided me down the wide, brick-walled hallway to a corner unit at the other end. I counted six condos located on this floor. He opened his door and waited for me to enter.
My practical voice warned against trapping myself inside this man’s home. No one knew I was here. I could disappear without a single person tying my death to Clint Reed.
I was faced with two paths. Both were dark and filled with unknowns. One offered Clint as a guide. The other left me alone. My practical voice was filled with fear rather than sensible advice.
I entered the condo and took in the sight of the two-story family room with a wall of windows facing the city. The building’s industrial vibe mixed with what I assumed was Clint’s rustic tastes. The home felt masculine yet welcoming with earthy brown colors mixed with coppers and taupe. The open kitchen included a kitchen island with a stainless-steel countertop and knotty wood base.
A black metal staircase led to a loft bedroom. I spotted a small room off the kitchen, possibly a second bedroom.
“I have a spare room. My sister and nephew use it when they stay over,” Clint said and walked past me toward the door off the kitchen. I followed him after a glance up at the loft bedroom where I imagined Clint spent his nights. “There are two beds in here.”
The bedroom was painted a pale beige. Twin beds rested against opposite walls, one next to the bathroom wall and the other under a window facing the city.
“There used to be a single bed in here,” Clint explained as he stood inches from me. “Elle and Sutter would sleep together. It was cute. But he’s seven now. Elle worried she might turn him into the next Norman Bates if they still shared a bed.”
I took a second to understand the reference. Looking up at Clint, I was taken aback by the sheer force of his good looks. How could I ever have a normal conversation with a man so handsome?
“I don’t know what happens next,” I mumbled, too stunned by his beauty to consider the weight of my words.
As Clint studied me, I noticed a flash of uncertainty in his blue-eyed gaze. His worry only lasted a moment before he smiled.
“Do you believe in fate?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, I do. Good and bad luck feel like destiny to me. I’m not saying people don’t have choices. But there are important moments in everyone’s life that are more than happy accidents. I think today was one of those moments.”
“So, us meeting was fate?”
“Yes. I’ve only felt this certain once before in my life. In that first situation, I didn’t know when I should make my play, even if I knew exactly what I wanted to do. I thought I might miss my shot, but as soon as the time was right, my instincts didn’t let me down. I’m also choosing to believe I’m making the right choice with you.”
Clint cupped my face. Without thinking, I nuzzled my cheek against the palm of his hand. I sometimes forgot how much I craved affection. The more Clint touched me, the more I felt my cold loneliness falling away.
“I still don’t know what happens next,” I murmured in a dreamy tone.
Clint kissed my forehead and inhaled deeply like he was memorizing my scent. He stepped back and looked around the room.
“I can’t take you out anywhere,” he said and then nodded. “My people will be all over this situation before you and I can even get to know each other. So, let’s think of everything in a logical way. You need more clothes, supplies, and a phone.”
Clint opened the small closet and studied the clothes inside. “My sister is probably seven inches taller than you,” Clint said and smiled slightly. “Elle is built differently, too. Her clothes won’t fit you well, but you can probably wear her sweatpants and a T-shirt until we have new stuff delivered for you.”
I looked inside the small walk-in closet to find one side filled with women’s clothes and the other with a child’s outfits. There were shoes on the closet floor. I felt like Goldilocks, where one size was too big and the other was too small.
“You don’t need shoes,” Clint said and walked around me to get to the bathroom. “We aren’t going anywhere for now. If I leave the condo, my people will descend upon us like locusts.”
“Why?”
Clint crossed his arms and smiled at me. “I’m not a romantic man. I like to fuck, but I rarely date. I haven’t had a girlfriend since high school. This,” he said and gestured between us, “is not how I do things.”
Glancing toward the window as if imagining his people, he continued, “That’s why everyone will flip out when they hear about you. Their curiosity is bound to make them obnoxious. So, let’s stay inside for now. We’ll do online shopping. I’ll order dinner. We’ll figure out what you need to stay safe. Plus, we can get to know each other.”
“What if you don’t like what you learn about me?” I asked, unable to edit myself when Clint’s gaze held mine.
“It doesn’t matter,” Clint said and smiled. “Fate brought us together. I feel something different for you than I have for any other woman. That makes you special, even if you have weird tastes or bad habits. We’ll figure it out.”
Clint exited the bathroom and looked around. “You should shower. Elle has plenty of crap in there for you to use. I’m going to run upstairs and get a shower in the other bathroom.”
Back in Reno, when people told me what would happen next, they would finish speaking and walk away. There was never any attempt to get my feedback or make sure I understood.
Clint, though, waited for me to react to his words. I should have simply nodded. But the fearful voice inside me wanted to be heard.
Tears filled my eyes, winning a frown from Clint.
“Tell me why you’re unhappy.”
“I’m scared about the next part.”
“What next part?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Well, what I do when I’m afraid is to keep moving forward,” Clint explained. “I decide on five things I need to do, and don’t worry past those steps. By the time I get to the end of those five things, I usually have more information about my situation. The fear might not be around anymore. So, I think you should focus on your next five steps.”
“The shower is one.”
“Yes, and picking out something to wear is two.”
“Meeting you in the living room is three,” I said and then asked, “Then what?”
“We’ll figure out what you need, like a phone and shoes. That’ll probably be a whole ten more steps right there. While you’re in the shower, figure out what size shoes you need. That’ll keep your mind busy.”
Breathing easier, I smiled. “That’s a good system.”
Clint grinned at my compliment. “The day is already half over. I want to get you settled before darkness sends your mind spinning again. So, let’s get cleaned up and meet in the living room, okay?”
With me focused on my next steps, Clint left to shower. I got moving quickly, refusing to let myself worry about Uncle Dwight or consider the man in the next room.
I picked out a burnished-orange long-sleeved shirt and black sweatpants. I also discovered a drawer with underwear and socks. I set the clothes on the bed and then went to strip out of the outfit I’d been wearing on and off for four days.
Whenever my fearful side tried to distract me, I focused on what my next steps should be. My concentration broke when I caught sight of my reflection. The Ivy in the mirror was the scared woman from the Reno mansion. She wasn’t a wild child. She didn’t make big moves. Did she even believe in fate?
“You died back in the Mercedes,” I whispered to the face looking back at me. “I’m someone new. Clint is real. No more fantasizing in my head. I want to live for real. I’m never going back to the mansion or living by my family’s rules.”
My mind flashed with the faces of my family. Those memories tried to lure me back to a life filled with fear and submission.
Except no one in my family was ever afraid to enjoy their lives. Grandmother Abigail traveled the world and loved many men. Geraldine partied hard and even jumped out of airplanes. Dwight and Linus ran the streets until late at night. None of them were locked away for their protection.
But I was always treated differently. Born prematurely, I needed surgery to fix my heart. I nearly died more than once. Though the scars from my chest tube, heart surgery, and various other treatments might be faded, they were constant reminders of my precarious beginning.
Geraldine insisted I was too sick to go to school or have friends. If I caught a cold, she would blame the staff and fire them. I never had a chance to get close to anyone except for my grandmother, mom, and uncles.
But I’d finally broken free of my cage. Clint Reed was going to teach me how to be a newer, better Ivy. And nothing—not the fearful woman in the mirror or my codependency with my family—would stand in the way.