Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
The Ranch
After my chat with Muddy, I went to find Brooks in the barn. He was petting the nose of a sleek brown mare, crooning to her in a low voice.
I paused, enamored.
His hands were large. Calloused. Capable.
Scarred.
They looked like they could inflict injury, but at the moment, they were gentle and tender.
I thought about him touching me with those hands and shivers raced up my spine.
He looked up and smiled at me. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
“How was your talk with Muddy?”
“Good.”
“Did she lecture?”
“Kind of. But in her own way. Muddy suggested you take me for a ride.”
“A ride, huh?”
I paused. “Okay, I just replayed how that sounded. And I didn’t mean for it to come out that way.”
Brooks let out a low chuckle.
“Why does everyone think you don’t laugh, Brooks?” I asked suddenly. “You’ve laughed so much with me.”
He stroked the mare’s neck. “Until recently, I didn’t have much to laugh about.”
His whiskey gaze held mine and something deepened between us. Something that wasn’t physical.
I swallowed hard and then lifted one of my feet to show him the cowboy boots I was wearing. “I’m ready.”
“For a horseback ride?”
“Versus. . .”
“You ever been on the back of a motorcycle?”
I looked at him in surprise. “Motorcycle?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I still have my Harley. So, what do you think? You brave enough to get on a motorcycle?”
“I like trying new things.”
“Yeah?” He rubbed his jaw. “What other kind of new things are you willing to try?”
The simmering sexual tension that hummed beneath the surface flamed between us. I thought about waking up next to him again. The feel of his warm body close.
I wanted more of that.
Flashing him a grin, I turned and looked at him over my shoulder. “Not sure yet. Maybe you could help me find out?”
In two quick strides, Brooks had captured me from behind. He pulled me against his hard chest and caged me in with his strong arms. He bent his head down, so his lips met my ear.
“Do you know what you’re asking for?” he whispered.
“Yes,” I lied as my spine was wracked with shivers.
He pressed a kiss to my temple and then released me, but only so he could take my hand and lead me out of the barn.
I liked how my hand felt in his. I liked how he looked at me. I liked how my heart raced when he touched me.
I liked that for the first time in my life, when I thought of going to bed with a man, there wasn’t panic—there was desire. Excitement. A rightness . . .
Maybe it was crazy. Maybe I was crazy.
But even though I was a virgin, I wasn’t completely innocent. I’d dated. I’d been kissed. But it had never felt like this. An overwhelming need to discover what happened between a man and a woman in bed. When you could hardly breathe and didn’t want to because you were drowning in pleasure.
Why did an ex-con with a mysterious past make me want to explore the facets of myself I’d been too scared to face?
Brooks handed me a spare motorcycle helmet, and I climbed on his bike behind him.
I wrapped my arms around his strong muscular body.
I realized then that I didn’t want to be the same Poet Peabody who’d lived her entire life surrounded by millions of people in Manhattan yet so devastatingly alone and afraid to open up.
I wanted to be someone new.
Someone with gumption.
“Hang on, Freckles,” he said, tugging me even closer. “I’m about to take you for a ride.”
An hour later, Brooks parked his motorcycle on a dirt road and cut the engine. I sat there for a moment, feeling my body still from the constant vibrations of the road.
Brooks climbed off and removed his helmet. “Well? What did you think?”
I unclipped my helmet and swung my leg around. I set the helmet down and then launched myself at Brooks. Even though he wasn’t prepared for my action, he’d hardly budged.
I wrapped my arms around him and leaned back to give him the widest smile in the world.
“That was incredible!” I yelled.
He tightened his arm around me. “Maybe your middle name really should be Danger.”
“It might have to be. If I’m gonna run with a biker.”
“I’m not a biker.” His smile dimmed. “Not anymore.”
My smile wobbled. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“Don’t worry about it, Freckles.”
He released me and set his helmet on the seat next to the spare.
It was clear he wasn’t going to expound, and I wondered if I even had the right to ask him about it. But I’d talked about my parents when I didn’t want to. And that had been difficult for me.
“Will you—will you tell me why?” I held my breath as I waited for his reply.
After a moment of silence, he said, “Yeah, I’ll tell you. But not right now. Okay?”
I nodded and turned away from him, hating that the mood had been spoiled.
“Hey,” he said gruffly. “Fuck, Freckles. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”
I lifted my shoulders but said nothing.
“It’s hard for me to talk about because it’s wrapped up in why I did time. And you were looking up at me, so happy and excited, I didn’t want to crush it.”
“I understand,” I murmured even though I felt like a doormat. “But you made me talk about my past even though I didn’t want to.”
“I didn’t make you. You could’ve shut me down.”
“Like you’re doing now?” I demanded.
“Fuck, I’m making this worse.”
“I guess I don’t really have the right to know,” I said, meeting his gaze. “It’s not the same, is it?”
“Can’t we just be in this place for a little while longer before I tell you the truth and risk you wanting nothing to do with me?”
My breath hitched and I took a step back.
“That, right there,” he muttered. “You’re afraid of me now.”
“I think you have to tell me the truth.” I exhaled a deep breath. “Why did you go to prison, Brooks?”
Brooks held out his hand.
After looking at it for a moment, I grasped it.
He pulled me close, and then we began to walk.
“Where are we?” I asked.
“It’s called Prospector’s Peak. There are abandoned mines all across the mountain,” he said.
“That’s awesome,” I said. “Salem and Hadley told me this was a big silver mining area back in the 1800s.”
We continued to amble, silent once again. I gave him the space to formulate his words.
What could he say to me that would make me view him differently? Would anything make me view him differently? I already knew he’d gone to prison. But why he’d done time would shed even more light on who he was.
“My brother and I belonged to the Tarnished Angels Motorcycle Club. The chapter in Spearfish, South Dakota,” he began. “The club had been going in a bad direction for a long time. We were involved in some . . . dark business, if you catch my drift.”
“Illegal?” I asked.
He gave a humorless smile. “I’m not answering that.”
When I fell silent again, he went on.
“One night, one of my biker brothers and I were out doing some shit for the club. He was high as a motherfucking kite. Suffered from addiction for years. He was a good dude overall, but just never kicked the habit. The short version of what happened: he had an illegal firearm in the car and was too fucking high to mention it until there were red and blue lights flashing behind us. It was a sawn-off shotgun. Super fucking illegal. He already had a record. . .” He paused.
“His priors were violent crimes, and the club was low-hanging fruit for the Feds anyway. If they pinned it on him, he was getting the full weight. Could easily have been ten or fifteen years and there wouldn’t be a plea deal.
He’d do most of that time. Fuck, I didn’t even know it was in the car.
Anyway, his Old Lady had just had a baby girl.
The idea of her growing up without a father . . .”
He trailed off.
Brooks shrugged. “So, I made the decision to take the fall. I was clean. I had no priors. I knew the judge would go lighter on me than he would on my club brother. He tried to argue, but I told him to shut the fuck up and let me take the fall. I got a five-year sentence. Out in just over four years for good behavior. But before I went in, I struck a deal with the club president. Because I ate the time without turning on the club, Archer could walk away from the club as soon as I went in, and when I got out of prison, I could walk away too. My prison sentence bought our freedom. I still have my ink because of how it went down. Usually, when a brother leaves the club of their own volition, they have to get rid of their ink. But the club let me keep mine to show there was no bad blood and that I was always welcome back if I wanted.”
He let out a sardonic laugh and shook his head. “The bastard OD’ed a year into my sentence.”
“When did you get out?” I asked quietly.
“Two years ago. While I was in, Archer started working as a farrier for Rex Hughes—a rich guy who breeds racehorses. When I got out, I went to work for Rex, too. Horse groomer. And then Cas called a few months ago and floated the offer of working at Elk Ridge. And here we are.”
“Here we are,” I repeated. My head was spinning from everything he’d said.
Loyal.
Muddy had said he was loyal.
I licked my lips. “What’s an Old Lady?”
“A biker’s wife or serious girlfriend. It’s more than that though. It’s a claim. It’s protection. And if something happened to you, the club would take care of her and any kids.”
“You took the fall for a biker brother? That’s—”
“No matter how you try and spin it, I was involved in some bad shit. I’m not a good man, Freckles.”
“You left the club, though. You left because you wanted something different. You’re not that man anymore,” I said.
“You don’t know that.”
“Don’t I?” I asked softly. “If you still wanted to be that man, you would be. But you’re not. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here with me. Don’t you believe in second chances, Brooks?”
“Maybe.” He peered at me. “I don’t deserve someone like you.”
I swallowed. “Someone like me?”
“Sweet. Innocent. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you. I’ll just screw it up.”
The longing I heard in his voice tugged at my heart. It was a tether, and it turned me toward him. “Is that why you haven’t kissed me?”
“You want me to kiss you?”
“Yes.”
“You haven’t been kissed by a man like me.”
“No.” I swallowed. “I need—”
A dam of lust had been unleashed.
He cradled my cheeks in his hands, and then his mouth covered mine.
And it was everything I didn’t know existed.
It was like coming out of a cold, dark cave into the welcoming heat of the sun. It was like frost melting on pine needles in the early morning light.
His tongue swept into my mouth, and I became alive.
I clung to him, desperately seeking his warmth, his scent. I needed him, on a visceral level.
His kiss demolished who I’d been.
Swept away in a river of desire was the Poet of old. That Poet was timid; that Poet didn’t know what she wanted and yearned for routine.
I’d hurt myself more than anyone else in my life, because I’d been depriving myself of joy.
Brooks gentled the kiss and then removed his lips from mine.
My eyes fluttered open and I stared into a liquid honey gaze.
I shivered.
“God, what you do to me,” he murmured.
“This is crazy,” I whispered. “Isn’t it?”
“Yes,” he admitted easily.
His hands dropped from my face and then clasped my hand. We were silent as we walked together. I loved the quiet with him. The stillness.
“Muddy wanted me to stay for dinner,” I said finally.
“I should drive you back then.”
I shook my head. “No, I told her I couldn’t have dinner with the family.”
“Why not?”
“Because I wanted to have dinner with you.”
He squeezed my fingers.
“When I told her that she invited you, too, Brooks.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s not just your boss anymore,” I said. “You’re my . . . whatever you are.”
“What do you want me to be?”
“Jesus, Brooks, it hasn’t even been twenty-four hours since we’ve met.”
“And yet we’ve already kissed and slept together.”
“Actually slept,” I stated.
“You groped me,” he pointed out.
“I didn’t mean to,” I muttered in embarrassment. “I was unconscious.”
“I liked it, Freckles,” he said with a deep laugh, but then sobered. “This doesn’t happen to me. I don’t meet someone and immediately want to know everything about them.”
“It doesn’t happen to me either,” I admitted.
He raked a hand through my hair. “I don’t even have to be talking to you. Just sitting next to you—being with you . . . that’s enough. But I don’t do casual. I want you.”
I shivered at the boldness of him, of the way he’d commanded the kiss.
Now was the time to tell him. Now was the time to tell him that I was a virgin. He’d been brave and divulged the truth. But I didn’t want him to look at me differently; I didn’t want to give him another reason to think he wasn’t good enough for me.
“Are you scared?” Brooks asked me when I didn’t reply.
I looked at him dead in the eyes. “Yes.”
“Of what?” he asked. “Tell me.”
“I’m terrified this isn’t real. I’m terrified this is all in my head. I’m terrified that because my life is utter chaos, this is all projection. I’m tired of thinking. I’m tired of worrying. I’m just tired, Brooks. I’m so tired.”
He cradled my cheeks in his hands and peered into my eyes.
“I know, baby,” he said softly. “I know.”