Chapter Thirteen
Casey glanced toward the window at the low rumble of a motorcycle. Her pulse quickened then slowed as the motorcycle passed the nursery and kept going. It wasn’t Rags. Disappointment threaded through her before she could stop it. She mentally counted the days again since she’d last seen him.
For the past two weeks, she’d been sure he would’ve shown up at the theatre with some excuse about needing to see how Clara’s car was holding up and then “accidentally” wandering into her office. But he hadn’t.
She’d watched Clara’s expressions and mood looking for any sign that something was wrong. But the young woman had been her cheerful, friendly self. So, Casey surmised Rags must have fared well in whatever confrontation the Insurgents had with the rival club at the festival.
Still… that didn’t explain why he was staying away, but maybe it did. Maybe their time in the barn was nothing more than fun and another attempted notch in his belt. Maybe he hadn’t thought twice about it after he’d walked away, while she’d been replaying it far too much like an idiot.
Of course, Rags had plenty of women he didn’t have to chase to occupy his thoughts. She knew the type. Hell, she’d married the type. That’s what I get for letting my guard down. She sighed and pushed up from the stool.
“It’s been a while since we were on the same shift,” Scott said, his eyes focused on her chest.
She shrugged, “I didn’t notice.” You creep.
“I did.” He popped a handful of popcorn into his mouth and crunched. “Have you been working more at the theatre?”
“Not any more than usual.” She hoped if she kept her answers short and simple he’d get the hint and stop bugging her.
He pushed the red and white box at her. “Want some? Emily made it just before she left on break.”
“No thanks.” She turned toward the monitor. “I have to update the inventory.”
“I saw you at the festival. Jillian was with me. Didn’t you see me?”
“No.”
“There were a lot of those biker dudes around. It was kinda intimidating, you know?”
“They’re the ones that put on the festival.”
“I know that.” Scott leaned against the counter. “I saw you with that one biker.”
Scott’s crunching and the smell of artificial butter wrapping around her made her gag.
“You got something goin’ on with him?”
Frowning, Casey glanced over at him. “I’m trying to do some work here, okay?”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“You don’t have a right to ask it. We just work together on some shifts.”
“I think of you as a friend. I feel I should warn you about him and his gang.”
“Thanks, but I’m an adult and I can handle myself just fine.” She looked at the flatbed cart stacked with bags of ice melt. “Aren’t you supposed to put all those”—she pointed at the cart—“on the shelves?”
Scott sighed. “Yeah. I’ll get around to it.” He tipped the bag, shaking the final kernels directly into his open mouth. “Do you think we’ll have a Christmas party this year?” he asked while chomping.
“I don’t know.”
“We had one last year, but you weren’t working then. It was pretty cool. Owen had it at Big Rocky’s Barbecue. They have the best damn ribs and brisket in the county. Have you been there?”
Casey let out a long, exaggerated sigh. “No. I’m trying to work here, okay?”
“Damn. You don’t have to bite my head off. I bet if I was that biker, you’d be all smiles and flirting with me.”
“Bags. Stack them,” she said, pointing at the flatbed.
“I’m going,” he grumbled.
Relief washed over her as he tossed the empty popcorn bag then pushed the cart down an aisle. I thought he’d never shut the fuck up. She focused her attention back to the monitor and finished inputting the inventory list.
The bell above the door chimed again. When the store was busy the constant chiming drove her crazy, especially when Scott was hanging around creeping on her. She couldn’t wait until she finished paying off the two credit card bills JT racked up.
“Hey.”
A deep voice reeled her back to the moment.
She looked up and froze. Rags stood in front of the counter.
Her gaze raked over him before she could stop it, drinking in the way the afternoon light caught the green in his hazel eyes.
He wore a long-sleeved T-shirt that molded over his chest and shoulders, and jeans that rode dangerously low on his narrow hips. Damn… he’s so hot.
“How’ve you been?” His voice was low and warm, like a caress wrapping around her.
She lifted her chin, her eyes landing on the stitched cut above his eyebrow. “You picked up a new scar since I last saw you.”
He smirked in that slow, infuriating, and familiar way. “I knew I could count on your cutting tongue.”
A cool smile curled at the corner of her mouth. “If I wanted to use my tongue on you, you wouldn’t be standing there smirking.”
His eyes darkened as heat flashed in them quick and unmistakable.
She held his gaze. “And just so you know, you could’ve come by to say hi. Instead, you disappeared like some cliché biker, but then, I can’t say I’m surprised.”
For a few seconds, he just stared at her then cleared his throat. “I had a lot of shit going on. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“I’m not upset.”
“Seems like you are.” He scrubbed the side of his face.
“Anyway, it doesn’t really matter. It’s no big deal. We’re both adults, right?”
His expression shifted. His perpetual smirk faded into something deeper, more predatory. His eyes dragged over her face, down her body, slow and deliberate. “You finished?” he asked.
She stiffened. “What do you mean?”
He leaned over the counter. She could feel the warmth of him and smell the fresh scent of his soap, because he was that close.
“I’m done stacking the ice melt.” Scott’s voice cut through the heated tension.
Casey heard Rags’s low growl.
“Good,” she said, forcing herself to look over at Scott.
Scott’s eyes darted between the biker and Casey. “Am I interrupting something?”
“No,” she breathed.
“Yeah,” Rags said, voice low and tinged with danger.
“We got a line building up,” Scott said, averting Rags’s glare.
“Then call for fuckin’ backup. I need to see some shit in the storeroom,” Rags said.
“Here I am,” Emily said, hurrying behind the counter and stopping at one of the cash registers. She smiled and nodded to a customer in line. “I can help you over here.”
Scott motioned the next person in line over to his register.
“Show me the fertilizer,” Rags said.
Casey’s breath caught and heat rose up her neck. “We don’t have any.”
“Yes, we do,” Emily said. “The back wall to the left is full of them. We just got a new shipment yesterday.”
“Thanks,” Casey mumbled as she walked from behind the counter.
Rags came beside her and touched her elbow with his hand and said, “You’re pissed because I didn’t come by the theatre.”
“I’m not,” she gritted.
“And it’s eating at you.”
She stopped in her tracks, anger prickling her skin. “You’re full of shit,” she whispered.
“No, I’m not.”
She opened her mouth, but he leaned in, close enough that she felt his breath against her cheek.
“You keep running that smart mouth,” he murmured, “and I’m gonna have to shut it the way you really want.”
Her pulse spiked. “You arrogant bastard.”
He chuckled. “Guilty.”
He grasped her arm and tugged her down the aisle.
“You do know I’m at work, right?”
“Yeah. I also know that Owen wants his people to be good to the customers.”
Before she could respond, he jerked his chin toward the back of the store. “We’ve got to talk. Now.”
She should’ve told him to go to hell and held her ground. Instead, she followed him.
The storeroom door shut behind them, and the fluorescent lights cut across stacked bags of soil and grass seed. The faint scent of earth, mulch, and cedar curled around them.
Rags didn’t say a word. His eyes raked slowly over her face, her mouth, her body; her skin prickled under the force of it. She should walk away, but she didn’t. She didn’t want to.
Without warning, his hand shot out and fingers closed around her wrist as he yanked her hard against him.
Her breath caught.
His mouth smashed onto hers, hot and hungry, his tongue sliding past her lips in a deep, claiming kiss that stole all thought from her mind.
Tendrils of pleasure shot through her, curling around her nerves.
For a heartbeat she gave in, letting herself revel in the feel and intensity of the kiss, then anger flared.
And she bit him. Hard. The copper taste of his blood rested on her tongue.
“Fuck!” he snarled, jerking back. Bright, feral fury flashed in his eyes, then it twisted into something dark and amused. A small, dangerous smile curved his lips. “So, you wanna play rough,” he said.
Before she could think, he grabbed her again, harder this time, his arms locking around her, pinning her against the solid wall of his chest. His breath was hot against her cheek a second before his mouth claimed hers again, deeper, hungrier, more demanding.
She should’ve kneed him in the groin, or at least, pushed him away.
But she didn’t do anything except lean in closer to him.
His kiss devoured her, captured her with every caress, every nip, every thrust, and it stole the ground from under her, making her knees weaken until she grabbed the edge his shirt just to stay upright.
Heat flood through her, and her body betrayed her in the most wicked way because she liked it too damn much.
Then, abruptly, he broke away.
He stepped back, breathing hard, a faint trace of blood on his lower lip.
Casey glared at him as her chest rose and fell. Anger zigzagged through her because he’d stopped, and angrier with herself because she hadn’t wanted him to.
Rags wiped his thumb across his lower lip, checking the smear of blood. “Do you always respond to a man like that?” His gaze was dark and defiant.
Casey folded her arms across her chest. “Only the ones who ghost me for two weeks, then drag me into a storeroom like I’m some convenience.”
His forehead furrowed. “You really think that?”
“That’s what it feels like.”