Chapter 11
Dixie
The fire investigation finally got me the insurance money for my home. Renter’s insurance. I never thought I’d need it, and I almost canceled it, but damn, I’m glad I didn’t.
I wasn’t a fan of being questioned by the sheriff’s department, though. It was determined to be arson, and the deputy asked me if there was anyone who might want to do something like that. Anyone with a grudge. A jealous ex, maybe.
I just sat there, my hands on my belly, hoping they’d get the hint.
If they asked who the father of my baby was, just to investigate him, I would have given them Stephen’s name.
Chances are, he covered his bases and wouldn’t have been linked, but at least someone would be looking.
But the deputy didn’t care. Hell, he only looked at the cleavage of my growing chest rather than at the swell of my belly.
Keeping my mouth shut feels like the right move. If this was to stop me from going after Stephen, he succeeded. An investigation I pointed in his direction would likely out his affair with me to his wife. And I can only imagine her response.
I highly doubt they have an open marriage. That she accepts Stephen having other women to keep company with in bed and promise the world to. And I really don’t think she’d be too happy knowing he’s having a baby with one of them. After he gets investigated for trying to kill his pregnant mistress.
Yeah, that would go over like a lead balloon.
Not to mention his poor kids. The last thing they need is to be carrying his dirt around if an investigation turned up anything. That’s not their fault.
The only bright side to this whole situation is the check that came in the mail today. My insurance money. It’s not a fortune, but it’s enough to make me feel like I might have something to offer now. Not a lot, but I can stop feeling like I’m a charity case.
And I can buy a new pair of shoes that don’t make my feet ache like the worn-out flats I’m wearing now. Being on my feet all night makes my ankles swell, and anything with a slight heel makes my back ache. I never expected pregnancy to be this hard on my body.
In fact, I wasn’t sure if I’d ever have kids after what happened when I was seventeen, but here we are. And I’m honestly happy even if I have no idea how I’m going to do this.
A dark sedan pulls up just as I’m out of reach of the back door of the Seven Crows, and Stephen steps out.
He wears his expensive button-down shirt with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, trying to look every bit the pharmaceutical rep he expects people to be impressed by.
His brown hair is combed back, but he looks tired.
Dark circles rest under his eyes, and his jaw clenches as he looks at me.
My heart immediately races. What the hell is he doing here? Wasn’t taking away my home and trying to take my life enough? Is he here to finish the job?
“Dixie,” Stephen says, his palms up as he steps forward like he’s approaching a terrified animal.
I suppose he is. Because my flight-or fight reaction is completely broken right now. All I can do is stand frozen as he comes closer.
“You shouldn’t be here,” I say once I find my voice. “You need to get back in your car and drive away before someone sees you.”
“I don’t care if people see me,” he says, though his eyes flicker around the dark lot in case anyone may come out to the line of motorcycles parked in front. “I heard about the police report. I know they officially ruled your condo being set on fire as arson. Dixie, I swear, I didn’t do it.”
He didn’t do it. Of course not. That’s not something Stephen Patterson would do. No, he’d hire someone. That makes what he says not a lie, but it’s not entirely the truth either.
Now that I’ve been away from him for months, I can see this is how he operates. Always gives half-truths. He’s not outright lying, but there’s never anything he says that’s full honesty, either.
I let out a dry, humorless chuckle. “You think I’m stupid, don’t you? I’ve had a lot of time to think about everything, and I know how you operate, Stephen. How you’re so good at sales. You’re a natural salesman.”
“Dixie—”
“You wanted me gone. You were pissed when I said I wasn’t getting rid of my baby, and you don’t want your perfect life you have set up ruined.”
His eyes blink rapidly like he’s struggling to process the hurt I’ve inflicted, but I know it’s nothing but lies. The equivalent of crocodile tears.
“Don’t even. You may not have been the one to light the match, but you organized it.”
“It wasn’t me!” he exclaims, his face flushing as the charm cracks. I can’t believe how I never saw the desperate man beneath the fa?ade before. “I was in Castlerock that night. I have receipts. People who can place me there.”
“We both know you do. And we both know that doesn’t mean you didn’t set the whole thing up.”
“You really think I’d—”
“I didn’t give your name to the deputy,” I cut him off. “You want me out of your life, and I’m more than happy to oblige. As long as you stay away from me, your secret stays safe.” I wait a beat before adding, “Both of them.”
His jaw loosens, and his shoulders sag. “If you really believe I would try to kill you, why not give my name to the authorities? Why not try to take me down?”
“It’s not for the reasons you think,” I say.
“And what reasons are those?” he asks, stepping forward with the same seductive look he’s given me a dozen times.
I move before his hand can reach me, thankful my paralysis seems to have faded enough to come to my senses. “It’s not you. Trust me.”
He frowns, crossing his arms over his chest. “Then what would those reasons be?”
“Your wife. And your children. You didn’t succeed, so I’m going to count this as just a very bad decision. But the biggest reason is that I never want to see you again.”
“You can’t be—”
“If you don’t stay away, Stephen, I will seek out your wife. And I will tell the sheriff. I will have you investigated, and we’ll see where the chips land. Stay away, and we don’t know each other. Simple as that.”
His tongue slides out and over his lips, and I know he’s trying to entice me. He’s trying to make me weak in the knees and beg him to take me against the side of the building. And even though I’m desperate for sexual release these days, I don’t want him to touch me.
I’m desperate, but I’m not that desperate.
“You’re making a mistake, Dixie.”
“The only mistake I made was believing your lies and letting you into my bed. Now, go home. To your wife and kids.”
I turn on my heel—much more gracefully than I expected—and head toward the bar. Stephen stomps away, gets into his car, and drives off, the squeal of his tires filling the air.
There’s something else filling the air. The sound of skin on skin. The wet sounds paired with heavy breathing, low moaning, and kissing. All things I wish I was doing with just about anyone right now.
“Wylie,” Lainey pants, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Fuck,” he grunts, and I hear his release hitting the wall.
She whimpers and then gasps. Even though I should go inside and forget what I heard, I can’t help myself.
I walk around the corner to find Wylie on his knees, his pants still around his ankles, and his face buried between Lainey’s legs.
Her hand clutches his hair as her hips buck against his face, and I hate how much I’m turned on by this.
Coming hard, she bites the palm of her free hand as her body shakes, and Wylie continues to suck and lick and whatever else he’s doing down there on his knees.
It’s not until she pulls his head away by his hair that he stops, and the shiny smile on his face shows the evidence of her arousal on his chin.
And it makes me hate them both right now.
“You felt too damn good, but I’ll never leave you unsatisfied,” Wylie says. “Promise.”
“You’re almost as good with your tongue as you are with your cock,” she whispers. “Fuck.”
“Yeah, fuck,” I say.
Both jump, and Wylie scrambles to his feet, yanking his jeans up. Even flaccid, he’s impressive. “Jesus, Dixie.”
“You realize it’s not actually dark yet, right?” I ask. “What if I’d been Nancy? Or what if someone from either of your clubs walked out the front door, heard what I did, and wanted to come take a look? Then what?”
“We’re getting sloppy,” Lainey says, shoving her skirt down and slipping her panties back on. “She’s right. We have to be more careful.”
His hand cups her cheek. “We’re Romeo and Juliet, baby.”
Rolling my eyes, I shake my head. “I’m going to work. Which is where you should be going, too. Not letting him work you over.”
“But it’s so damn fun,” he jokes.
“Until one or both of you gets killed because of it. It’s not just her family you need to worry about. What about your club, Wylie? What will they do to Lainey if they find out what you’re doing?”
“They won’t fucking touch her,” he growls. “If they do, I’ll kill them.”
“And if it’s your dad?” Lainey asks.
His jaw tenses. “He wouldn’t—”
“Like he didn’t try to rape Misty?”
This was the proverbial ice water they needed thrown over them, and Lainey pushes away from him. He has no retort; instead, he just runs a hand through his hair while Lainey pulls me inside with her.
“Lainey—”
“I hear you, okay? I do. It’s just… It’s complicated.”
“Uncomplicate it. Before it causes damage to one or both of you,” I plead.
Penn sits at the bar when I walk out and tie the apron around my waist. I pause for a moment, thinking about how long it’ll take before this apron no longer fits. Will it still tie in a few more months? Or will I need to add a shoelace to each end?
“You okay?” Penn asks.
Snapping out of my thoughts, I nod. “Yeah, I’m good. Just thinking.”
“About?”
“Aprons.”
He frowns before laughing. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. It’s… never mind. Whiskey or beer?”
“Beer,” he says.
Reaching into my pocket, I pull out the check I’d written before getting out of my car. “Here. Before I forget to give it to you.”
He takes it and opens the folded paper while I grab a mug and begin pouring.
Penn likes draft beer, not bottles. He’ll never admit it, but I know it’s because it becomes too tempting to use a bottle as a weapon when shit goes down in here.
Something about Penn is that he likes to stay in control of himself.
Not in a controlling way like many of the other men.
He’s just that reserved with himself and who he shares with the world.
I kind of admire it about him. It’s rare to meet someone who has that much self-awareness.
“What is this?” he asks.
“It’s a check,” I say, setting the mug in front of him. “It’s a dent in the amount you spent on the clothes. And to help with rent and food. Basically everything you pay for that I don’t.”
The silence between us spreads, and everyone falls quiet around us. The air is electric, and if we were outside, I’d swear a thunderstorm was brewing. When his gaze meets mine, it’s not gratitude I see. It’s anger.
“Take it back,” he says, sliding it toward me.
“Penn, please. I can pay—”
“I don’t want your money,” he snaps.
It’s the angriest I’ve seen him. Especially toward me. “I’m not a charity case. And you’ve been more than generous, but I never expected—”
“I didn’t offer to help to get a check in return,” he says. “I’m not looking to collect a return on investment.”
“It’s not like that,” I say, my own anger mixing with confusion. Who the hell wouldn’t be relieved to get some of their money back after taking care of a pregnant woman who isn’t carrying his baby? “It’s about respect. I don’t want to owe you anything.”
“Owe me?” he says, standing up. “You think this is a transaction? That you’re just a tenant?”
What else am I? I have my own room, a bathroom to myself, and a kitchen where he keeps everything stocked. Greatest landlord ever, but still not more than a temporary situation.
“I’m trying to be fair, Penn.”
“I don’t want your money, Dixie,” he says, tossing a bill on the counter, and letting out a long, slow breath before he moves toward the door.
“Where are you going?”
“I need some air.”
Nancy walks over and wraps an arm around my shoulders. “Don’t take it personally.”
“How else should I take it?”
“When men like Penn help someone, they don’t want anything but a thank you in return.”
“It’s not like I expected him to support me financially. He’s helping me out. That’s it.”
She gives me a placating smile, and I hate it. I’m not simple. It’s not like this is a hard situation to understand.
“I get where you’re coming from, but trying to repay a man like Penn with money is nothing but a slap in the face. Or maybe a kick to the balls.”
That puts it in a slightly different perspective. “That’s not what I’m trying to inflict.”
“I know. And I think he does, too. Deep down. But he won’t take your money, sweetheart. It’s just not how he’s wired.”
“And men say we’re complicated.”
Tilting her head back, she lets out a loud laugh. “Bikers are even worse.”
“No kidding.”