CHAPTER 13
LARA
When the bell above the door chimes, I look toward it and my stomach flips. Playboy is standing in the doorway holding a take-out bag. Again. This time it has the logo for On Wasted Ridge, the bar and grill the club owns. I’ve been there, but only when Graycie and Opal made me go.
It’s not like you can completely avoid club owned businesses in this town, not if you want to get an oil change at least, but I try to keep my distance as much as possible. Now, I’m not so sure it’ll be something I can do anymore.
Not when Playboy keeps showing up in my life and making himself very known.
Vanessa looks up from where she’s playing on her tablet for a few minutes before I lock the door and shut everything down for the day. The smile that breaks out across her face is blinding when she sees Playboy.
I already know I’m not going to be able to turn him away.
The man is ruthless and diabolical. I can see why people are afraid of the Saint’s Outlaws MC enforcer. Right now, this isn’t about power or territory or whatever else bikers might bicker over. He’s using his skills to launch a full-scale attack on my resolve.
And, maybe, my heart.
I push the thought away because I won’t let myself go down that road. Nope. Not happening.
Even if I do have some very naughty dreams about the man who is currently standing in front of me with a sheepish smile on his face.
“You know,” he drawls lazily, “I was just in the neighborhood with some hot food and thought I’d stop in to see if you ladies were interested in dinner again.”
I eye the bags in his hands warily. Vanessa does not have the same reaction. She practically leaps out of her chair and rushes toward him.
She’s so fast that he doesn’t have time to brace himself and steps back half a step when she slams into him. Her arms wrap around his waist like it’s the most natural thing in the world while my heart clenches.
Every time I’ve watched Vanessa and Playboy interact, I’m left wondering if I’ve done her a disservice because she doesn’t have a father in her life. Lola didn’t know who the father was, there were too many possibilities, and it didn’t feel worth it at the time to figure it out.
I’m realizing now that it might have been a mistake.
“Jettson,” she gushes, “I had a feeling you’d be coming by tonight.”
“Are you psychic?” There’s a tease in his voice as he asks the question.
“Maybe,” Vanessa muses. “I should start playing the lottery.”
I chuckle at her words. Whenever she sounds like an adult, I find it both hilarious and sad. Time seems to move both too fast and too slow at the same time when it comes to being her parent.
Unable to help myself, I challenge him, but there’s no anger in my voice, “You were just in the neighborhood?”
“Well,” he considers me with a long look, “I was in town.”
Laugher comes out of me before I can stop it and his chocolate eyes light up like he just won something. Maybe he did. I can only shake my head at how ridiculous he is.
Having finished up, I walk around the counter and toward the front door. Vanessa is peering into the bag Playboy is holding and licking her lips.
“It smells good,” she chirps and I have to admit she’s right. It does.
When I take a step to pass him to lock the door of the bakery, his voice drops low enough for only me to hear, “If this isn’t okay, I can leave the food and go.”
It’s not his offer that has me stopping and looking at him; it’s the way he says it. There’s no avarice or calculation. He’s completely serious.
If I don’t want him here, if I don’t want to let him up to our home, he’ll walk away.
“No,” I murmur, “it’s okay.” I look down at the bag and then back up at him. “Since you were in the neighborhood, I can’t exactly turn you away.”
He grins from ear to ear and I find myself doing the same. It’s completely ridiculous. I should be keeping my distance from him except for our tattoo appointments. The fluttery feeling in my belly, the anticipation of spending more time with him, is proof I’m walking a dangerous line.
Part of me doesn’t even care.
“Good,” he grunts before straightening up slightly. He looks down at Vanessa, and his hand gently rests on her head. “Your mom gave me your drawing. It was really good. I put it on the wall in my shop.”
Vanessa’s eyes light up. “You put it on your wall?”
She doesn’t sound skeptical; she sounds thrilled. Not one part of her doesn’t trust Playboy.
“Yup,” he pops the p and winks at her. “Great art should be displayed.” He gets a thoughtful look on his face before tapping a blank space on his arm. “I’ve been thinking about having Riti tattoo your drawing right here.”
Vanessa practically falls over as her eyes go as wide as dinner plates. “You’d have my drawing tattooed on you? Like forever?”
“Just like forever,” he murmurs, his voice soft and indulgent in a way which slices right between my ribs.
Vanessa chatters away as we head upstairs, get drinks together, and sit around the table. There’s something surprisingly domestic about it.
I hate it.
I love it.
I’m all mixed up about it.
What should I be feeling? How much distance can I keep between my life and his?
He’s already walked in like he owns the place and is just waiting for me to catch up. It’s infuriating. And surprisingly hot.
I can understand why Graycie and Ezra fell for bikers. They’re fucking stubborn as hell and more determined than is probably healthy.
Dinner is filled with conversation, and Vanessa opens up more about school, what she likes, and what she hates. Playboy soaks up every single word like he’s dehydrated. I can almost see him filing everything she says away for safekeeping.
It brings tears to my eyes, but I blink them back.
I’m being far too emotional tonight. The realization that I’m actually happy sitting around the table with Vanessa and Playboy pulls me up short. It has me retreating a little in my head even as I watch them while nodding and smiling in all the right places.
It’s a different feeling from sitting around the dinner table with my family when I was growing up. Every one of those dinners felt like a battlefield. I never knew what kind of shit Lola was going to pull or what kind of performance she was going to put on.
I could never relax and spent the entire time trying to translate between what was said and what was meant.
It was never ending. I was only able to breathe a sigh of relief when Lola disappeared for those two years after Vanessa was born.
Even though I felt like a horrible person, I wasn’t going to apologize for feeling that way.
It’s a sad state of affairs when having a newborn in my arms is more relaxing than having dinner with my sister. But that’s how it was.
I can still feel the echoes of that relief washing over me.
As we’re finishing dinner, Playboy’s mouth lifts into a sly smile. “Vivi,” he addresses her. She blinks at him and then her face goes soft in a way I’ve never seen happen before. “I’m trying it out, what do you think?”
“I’ve never had a nickname before,” she breathes out like he’s gifted her something priceless. “Well,” she corrects herself, “someone tried to call me Nessa once, but I shut that down.”
The face she makes is filled with disgust. I can’t say I blame her. I wouldn’t want to be called ‘Nessa’ either.
“I thought about that one,” Playboy admits, “but you are not a Nessa.”
“I like Vivi,” she says it so softly that I almost miss it.
Playboy reaches over and fondly strokes her hair. “Good.” He takes a deep breath as if he’s preparing himself for something. “I was wondering if I could have another iris drawing.”
He says it like he’s asking to borrow a million dollars—with weight and the fear that he’s asking for far too much. My breath hitches and tears burn the back of my eyes.
“You want more of my drawings?” Vanessa asks the question and her surprise is evident.
“I do,” he says it clearly. Firmly. “I’d really like to hang it in my room at the clubhouse if it’s okay with you.”
Vanessa launches out of her chair and wraps herself around Playboy. He lets out a low, amused chuckle. His large hands are gentle as he holds her.
When she pulls back to look up at him, her voice is bright, “None of the other ones I have are good enough. Will you be here for a few minutes?”
He glances at me and all I can do is nod. I don’t trust my voice to not crack right now.
“Yeah, I’ll be here for a few minutes.”
“Great,” she chirps before letting him go and racing toward her room, “I’ll go and draw you one right now.”
The smile on Playboy’s face when he turns to me is victorious. I’m more than a little surprised that a ten-year-old can make him feel like he just won something. I shouldn’t be because that’s the kind of effect Vanessa has on people.
Just as Playboy starts to collect the trash, again, I blurt out, the words harsher than I intend them to be, “You shouldn’t do that.”
“Do what?”
Fuck, he looks genuinely confused. I almost hate myself for what I’m about to say.
“Encouraging her. Putting yourself in a position to become a fixture in her life. It’ll confuse her and, in the end, it’ll hurt her.”
His face crumples for a second but then he visibly pulls himself back together.
“If you’re serious,” he pauses and swallows hard, like the words are hard for him to force out, “then I’ll back off, of course.
You’re her mom and the last thing I want to do is put you or her in an uncomfortable position.
” Relief and regret fill me; I’m not sure which one I’m feeling more.
“I’d really like you not to be serious though,” he confesses.
I shouldn’t ask. It shouldn’t matter. I ask anyway.
“Why?”
“It would make me really sad. I love having Vanessa in my life.” His eyes linger on my face like he wants to say more but manages to stop himself. “I don’t want to confuse her. I don’t want her to be afraid of being abandoned either.”
Fuck. How did he know that was my biggest fear in bringing this up? I just didn’t want to say it outright.