Chapter 12 #2
In a matter of days, the entire trajectory of my life had shifted.
And, while it’d be an adjustment, I was ready to embrace it.
My life would be less partying at the clubhouse and more homework.
Jessa was too old for playdates, but I imagined I’d be keeping an eye on her and her friends.
Making sure she came home safe. Got good grades.
And, fuck, there would be boys. That thought alone made my stomach clench.
I could already picture some punk trying to charm her while I threatened to make him disappear if he hurt her.
Maybe I didn’t know what the hell I was doing with my life, but for the first time, I wanted to figure it out.
* * *
By evening, I landed somewhere that would’ve made me laugh out loud six months ago—shopping at Home Depot with my VP’s old lady.
Eva seemed thrilled to supervise something as menial as selecting paint colors.
Chaos rode like royalty in the cart, wagging her tail as shoppers passed and trying to guilt them into treats and head scratches.
“Jessa’s going to be good for you,” Eva said as I tried to figure out the difference between eggshell, linen, and alabaster.
“She’s great. I just hope I can give her the stability she deserves.”
I held up two paint samples that looked identical. How were there this many shades of white?
“You’ll be great,” Eva assured me. “You’re giving her a home and a family that cares. All of us are here to help.”
I picked up a warm gray paint swatch. “What about this one?”
“Really? Millennial gray?” Eva asked with pretend exasperation.
“No, this says ‘Agreeable Gray.’” I showed her the swatch.
She shook her head, laughing. “Any warm gray tone is considered millennial gray. And you are”—she poked me in the chest—“definitely a millennial.”
I rolled my eyes. “Aren’t you one, too?”
She scoffed. “Barely. I’m a baby Millennial.”
I raised my brows. “What about Reaper?”
She laughed. “He’s definitely an elder millennial. A grumpy one.”
I groaned, holding up a half-dozen nearly identical gray-beige cards. “Can you just pick something for me? They all look the same.”
Eva plucked two colors—Mindful Gray and Forest Green. “You need calming tones if you’re going to have a hormonal teenage girl in your home. A green accent wall will give the place a pop of color. We can get matching throw pillows.”
“No throw pillows,” I grumbled.
“You’re such a boy,” she teased.
I shook my head and glanced at the pup watching the world go by from the cart. “Chaos eats throw pillows.”
Eva scratched the pup’s head. “She’ll grow out of it. What color for Jessa’s room?”
“She said lavender.”
Eva sifted through six almost-identical purple samples and picked one decisively. “We still need something for your room.”
“Anything’s fine.”
Her grin turned sly as she lifted a cheerful yellow card. “How about this? It’s called Merciful Joy.” She enunciated the Merci part of the paint color name, all innocent-like, but there was a gleam behind it that told me she knew damn well what she was doing.
I controlled my expression. Reaper complained that Eva was too damn smart sometimes, and now I could see why.
“How about we not choose a paint color based on my friend’s name?” I emphasized “friend” with a glare.
My response only encouraged her.
“Friend, huh? Not the vibe I’ve been getting lately.”
I snorted and turned back to the paint rack, pretending to be fascinated by a collection of blues. “That’s because you read into things that aren’t there. You and Rhetta, I swear. Constantly trying to play matchmaker. Merci and I are just friends.”
“Sure,” Eva drawled, clearly enjoying herself. “Kind of how you and Kenna were friends? And then you kissed her? I’m just saying that maybe this time there could be something there. You and Merci would make a cute family.”
“Don’t start,” I warned. “I don’t need you joking about this when Reaper’s around. If he tells Merrick, I’m dead.”
Her grin widened. “So there’s something to tell?”
“There’s nothing to tell,” I insisted. “She’s my friend. End of story.”
Eva arched a brow, amusement dancing in her eyes. “Whatever you say.”
I rolled my eyes and snagged a muted blue-gray paint swatch from the shelf. “Here’s the color for my room. Are you done interrogating me?”
Eva’s laugh echoed down the aisle. “For now.”
Chaos barked once, like she agreed.
By the time we pulled the truck onto the highway, the backseat looked like I was nesting, and the bed was filled with furniture I’d have to assemble. Domestic as hell.
Eva teased me the whole drive back, but once I dropped her off and pulled into the clubhouse lot, the silence hit hard.
Adult shit and responsibility—it all sounded good in theory until the noise stopped. Then it was just me, the quiet, and way too much room to think. Eva’s laughter still bounced around in my head as Leah slid a cold beer across the bar. Chaos perched in my lap, her little tail wagging.
Every time I thought I had my shit together, life found a way to knock me on my ass. Maybe that’s why the barstool felt unsteady, the clubhouse too damn quiet. Eva made it sound easy—family, a peaceful home, stability.
But when Merci walked in, I knew peace and quiet were officially off the table.
Her eyes were tired, and her hair still dripped with water from her post-shift shower. The long, dark strands left wet spots on the thin white cotton of her tight tank top. Her cut-off shorts showed her smooth, slender thighs and colorful tattoos.
I set Chaos on the floor, and she bounded over to her, showing off the newest toy I’d bought her—a squeaky rubber pig that was obnoxiously loud. Merci tossed the toy in the air, and Chaos snagged it in her tiny jaws.
“Do you want to come over and watch a movie?” she asked, not looking up from her game with Chaos. “The house will be too quiet with Merrick and Kenna gone.”
“Do I get to pick the movie?”
“No, but I’ll share my secret stash of ice cream if Merrick hasn’t found it yet. I hid it behind a box of frozen vegetarian burritos,” she said with a devious grin.
“Decoy burritos. Smart.”
We walked the path through the woods between the clubhouse and Merrick’s home, letting Chaos zigzag ahead of us with her nose glued to the ground.
Cicadas screamed in the trees, and a squirrel barked at us from the top of an oak tree, offended by the pint-sized gremlin that was convinced she might be able to climb up and grab him by the tail.
Despite leaving my cut behind in my room, sweat slid down my spine, making my shirt cling to my back. “I’m going to need another shower by the time we get there,” I grumbled.
Goose bumps prickled across my skin as we stepped into the house, the blast of cold air a shock after the swamp outside.
Merrick kept the air conditioning set somewhere between a polar vortex and a Michigan snowstorm.
Merci’s tank top went from enticing to downright dangerous as her nipples pebbled as soon as the cool air touched her skin.
“Where’s Brisket?” I asked, looking for the oversized Dutch Shepherd Kenna had adopted a few months before.
“With Eva and Reaper,” Merci explained, tossing her flip flops to the corner.
She set Chaos on the floor, and the tiny menace bounded straight to a box of Brisket’s squeaky toys, most of them the same size as her. She dug around and settled on a lamb with one ear missing. She proudly dragged it to the oversized dog bed in the corner like she’d hunted it herself.
Merci grabbed the remote and flicked on the TV. “I’m the final decision-maker here, but I believe in democracy, so I’ll give you a vote.”
I smirked. “You’re such a giving person.”
“I know, right? Romance, thriller, or comedy?”
“Thriller.”
“New release or classic?”
I hummed and pretended to ponder while stroking my beard. “Classic.”
“Get the ice cream and two spoons, and I’ll pick the movie.”
“We could eat out of bowls like civilized humans,” I suggested from the kitchen.
“Then I’d have to wash the dishes. Merrick will have a conniption if he comes back to dirty bowls in his sink. I have the next three days off from work. I’m not spending them with a sponge in my hand.”
“Fair,” I chuckled as I rustled through the freezer and found the ice cream hidden at the back behind a questionable box of burritos. Strawberry. My favorite.
A movie began to play as I handed Merci a spoon and settled beside her on the couch. My heart stuttered as our knees brushed.
“The ‘classic thriller’ you chose is Shrek?” I said with a laugh, taking a spoonful of ice cream.
“Yep. It should be relatable to an ogre biker like you.”
“I’m more charming than Shrek,” I said with fake offense. “A hell of a lot more good looking, too.”
She snorted. “Keep telling yourself that.”
We watched the movie unfold, razzing each other through each scene. Chaos hopped onto the couch to lie beside me, her little body radiating heat against my thigh before she rolled over onto her back, snoring like a chainsaw with her legs in the air.
“You’re a lot like Princess Fiona.”
She snorted. “How?”
“You’ve never needed anyone to rescue you. You’re a badass, and you’re beautiful, whether you’re in a ballgown or covered in blood.”
Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. Then she let out a soft laugh. “You have ice cream in your beard.”
She licked a finger and leaned over, her face close to mine as she rubbed away the sticky, half-dried ice cream on my chin. A low growl escaped my chest, and she looked up. When our eyes met, the movie banter became background noise, and all I could hear was the rise and fall of our breath.
Merci pressed her lips to mine. For half a second, I froze. Then desire steamrolled my common sense. I cupped the back of her head, fingers tangling in her damp hair, and pulled her closer. I kissed her like I’d been starving for it—and, fuck, maybe I had.
You have five seconds to enjoy this kiss, and then it has to stop, I thought to myself.
Five … Holy shit. Her lips were soft and demanding, and she tasted like strawberries and bad fucking ideas.