Chapter 3
Kenzee
“You’re taking a break?” Phil, my boss, asks me.
“Yeah, Phil. That’s what I said,” I tell him as I get back to applying makeup to the dead body that lies in front of me. Yeah, some think it’s gross or crazy, but I am, in fact, a mortuary cosmetologist.
“You don’t take breaks,” Phil says as I continue with my work.
“I do now. Besides, my uncle wants to spend some time with me,” I tell him, although the thought of that makes me gag. Not that my uncle isn’t great to be around, he is, but family bonding isn’t really my thing.
“Aww, Kenz. A bonding trip,” he coos as he raises his hand to his heart. I roll my eyes before looking up at him.
“I’m not into that shit, and you know it.”
“That’s why it was a shock when you asked me for time off,” he adds.
“It’s been a long time since we’ve been to the beach. Weird since we fucking live near it.”
“Yeah, it is weird, but you’re a weird girl, Kenz,” he chuckles. He isn’t wrong.
“So you’re good with me taking some time off?”
“Yeah, of course. You know I’m easy to work with.”
“I also know that my uncle would beat your ass and possibly slit your throat if you tried to fire me,” I say cheerily.
“Well, that too.”
“Seriously, though, thanks, Phil.”
“Don’t get all soft on me, Kenz. So tell me about this new guy that’s back,” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows.
“What about him?”
“What’s he look like? Is he hot? Have you tried to fuck him yet?” I drop the brush I’ve been working with and grab the small knife I keep on the table next to me, pointing it at him.
“You keep talking shit, and I’ll send him over here. I’m not fucking a club member, and you know it.”
“I still don’t know why that rule exists,” he says.
“Because I made it exist.”
“But why? All of the ones that I’ve seen you around have been gorgeous, Kenzee.”
“And? That doesn’t mean shit, and we all know it.”
“You’re thinking about your little books, huh? That you’re going to find one of those kinds of men.”
“I’m absolutely not thinking that. I wouldn’t want a man like that anyway. Not after what I’ve lived with,” I remind him. He sighs before walking toward me and resting his hand on my shoulder.
“Don’t sell yourself short, Kenz. You deserve to be happy and have everything that you want.”
“No. I deserve the pain that I have.”
“No, you don’t. Stop being like that. You have a good heart, Kenz, You just need the right man to see that,” he tells me. If I were a girly girl, I would probably cry right now, but I’m not. So I just smile my thanks and drop the knife back onto the table.
“She’s done. I’m getting out of here for the day,” I say, nodding toward the elderly woman lying on the table in front of us. Phil looks down and hums his approval.
“You have such a skill, Kenz. You shouldn’t be wasting it here with the dead.”
“You mean like actually having to deal with the living? No thanks,” I laugh, causing him to laugh along too.
“You’re right. You’re a bitch to most living people.”
“Now you’re getting it!” I tell him as I walk over to the lockers and grab my shit out.
I toss a wave over my shoulder before heading out the back door and climbing on my bike.
Uncle Jenson taught me to ride at a young age, knowing that’s what my dad would have wanted.
I hate that it wasn’t my dad who taught me. I hate that he isn’t here with me.
I sigh before tugging my helmet on and revving up my bike before taking off.
I’m in my happy place on this bike. It makes me feel connected to my dad in more ways than one.
I ride through town when some asshole cuts me off. Anger surges in my veins as the edge of his bumper hits my tire. The bike skids sideways, and I try to regain control, but it’s too late. I lay the bike down, the road ripping the skin on my arm open. I groan in pain as the asshole takes off.
“Are you okay?” I hear someone ask. I nod my head and drag my ass off the ground to see a man standing next to me looking concerned.
“I’m fine. Assholes never look where they’re going,” I grumble.
“I know. He pulled right out in front of you,” he adds. “You sure you’re okay? You’re bleeding.”
I twist my arm to see what he’s talking about and groan at the sight. I had a tattoo planned for that spot, and now it’s going to scar, I know it.
“Fuck!”
“Yeah, you tore that up pretty good.”
“That’s not what I was hoping for today,” I mumble as he walks over and helps me pick my bike up off the ground. Traffic keeps moving around us as I reach for my bike and begin to climb on.
“You want me to take you somewhere for that?”
“No. I’ve had worse,” I tell him.
“You sure you’re okay? Didn’t hit your head?”
“Are you a doctor or something?” I ask, a little amused by his line of questioning.
“Not an actual doctor, no. I’m a vet.” I glance over at him once more and smile.
“Yeah, I can see that. Thanks for stopping,” I tell him, ready to continue on my way.
“Can I…I don’t know, get your number?” he asks, looking shy. It’s kind of cute but he isn’t at all my type, but he might be a good fuck. I ramble off my number and watch as he types it into his phone.
“I’ll call you,” he says. I nod and take off before this conversation gets any weirder.
When I make it back to the clubhouse, a few of the guys are outside. I pull up and park, pulling my helmet off and tossing it on the ground.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Patch asks.
“You see this shit? Look at the fucking scratch on this!” I snap, pointing at the side of my bike. He whistles and walks closer to examine it.
“How the fuck did you do that?”
“Some asshole pulled out in front of me, and I went down,” I tell him. Immediately, his head jerks in my direction and his eyes travel my body.
“You hurt?”
“Just my arm,” I tell him, flashing the mess at him before walking away.
“Kenz, you need that looked at!” he calls out to me.
“I’m fine.”
“Stubborn ass,” he mumbles as I pull the door open and walk inside. I’m headed for the hallway when Storm grabs my wrist and stops me.
“Fuck. That looks like it hurts,” he says, nodding toward the wound on my arm.
“It didn’t tickle.”
“You good? Hurt anywhere else?”
“No. Just my fucking bike. It has a big fucking scratch on it now.”
“That can be fixed. This is probably going to scar.”
“Figured that much.”
“Need to clean it out. Has a lot of debris in it.”
“I’ll get one of the girls to help me.”
“I’ll do it.” With that, he lets go of my arm and walks in front of me down the hall.
I follow him down and into his room before he leads me into the bathroom.
I drop down on the toilet lid, and he grabs some supplies before he gets to work.
I wince a few times, but I’m not a crybaby like most would be.
Storm cleans it out and then cleans it again to make sure he got it all. His fingers hold firmly on my arm.
“You sure you didn’t get hurt anywhere else?” he asks.
“Yeah, I’m good.”
“Jeans are ripped,” he says, looking down at my leg. I follow his gaze and huff out a breath.
“These were my favorite jeans.”
“Not anymore.”
“This day has been bullshit since I woke up. Thank fuck we’re leaving soon,” I add although I don’t know why I’m telling him.
“You’re going?” He asks. Immediately, my head snaps up, our eyes locking.
“Why the fuck wouldn’t I?” He shrugs.
“Figured that wasn’t your scene,” he says.
“The beach? Am I too fucking manly for it?” I snap. Storm eyes me before letting his eyes fall to my body. I shove to my feet, and that look doesn’t stop. He looks me over, his eyes burning straight through me.
“There ain’t nothin’ manly about you, darlin’.”
“Is that how you pick up girls? Pathetic.” Storm laughs, throwing his head back before looking back down at me.
“You think I’m tryin’ to pick you up? Is that it? Trust me, sweetheart, when I wanna pick up a woman, this isn’t the way I do it.”
“Yeah, okay. Thanks for cleaning this up,” I say as I roll my eyes and start to move past him. He reaches his arm out, blocking my path. I reach up to push his arm away so that I can pass, but he’s too strong. He holds steady as I drag my gaze back to meet his.
“You going to move?”
“I don’t know, Kenzee. I kind of like you stuck in this small space with me.”
“What?”
“You heard me. I think I like you bein’ in my space.”
“Get the hell out of my way,” I snap, trying to shove his arm out of my way.
“Fuck, I love a fighter.”