14. Daisy
DAISY
As I watch my baby drive off in the back of someone else’s car a week later, I can’t decide whether to insist I’m making it work or cry.
The mom of another child in Elsie’s camp offered to take them to a petting zoo about thirty minutes away.
Elsie was so excited to go with Trudi and her mom that she hasn’t been able to talk about anything since.
I don’t tell her about the preparation I did.
Calling the venue to see if they had security on site, stalking the poor woman’s social media so I had a clear view of who she is and what she stands for.
And taking Annie up on her offer to leave early a few times so I could get to the camp early enough to talk to her.
And the truth is, Laurie is a lovely human being. Her kids love her. She has this amazingly patient but firm parenting style. But I’m not taking any chances, which is why I bought one of those small trackers and fixed it into the sole of Elsie’s new sneaker so I can see where she is at all times.
I try not to think about how I could afford it. That I received two random deliveries of groceries in the same way you might get flowers on Valentine’s Day. I had my suspicions, and Havoc confirmed them when I saw him in the bar yesterday. Vandal sent them.
Then my car was returned by Ridge and Sunny. They said they just fixed the radiator, but I swear the car has two new tires and had been given a full valet service, inside and out.
Since then, I’ve had my phone in my hand a million times to text Vandal thank you.
To tell him I’m sorry for what I said on the road about him not being able to look after himself.
And how I asked him if he was sober, because my immediate reaction was to assume Daisy had been put in danger.
But each time, I just look at that blank text box and have no idea what to say.
Now, it feels as though too much time has passed and I’m starting to feel like one of those ‘Am I The Asshole’ posts when you know you are, in fact, the asshole.
Because I’m pretty sure I kicked a good man while he’s down.
But then I remember what Vandal said to Havoc when he was about to drive us out of there, about the trouble being Alvarez, and it can’t be a coincidence.
To try and keep my mind off Vandal as I wander to the bakery, I check my phone and see if Elsie is headed in the direction Laurie said they’d be going.
When I dropped Maren off at a stilted house in the middle of nowhere, I gave Maren my number, and she took mine.
Two days ago, she asked if I wanted to meet her for coffee and cake at a little bakery on the main strip of town.
I suggested today because it’s a rare moment I’m not working or taking care of Elsie.
I’ve even made an effort. I showered, took a minute to do the whole curly-girl thing so my hair bounced.
And I pulled a sundress out of the back of my closet.
It’s just plain denim blue with thin straps that tie in pretty bows on my shoulders, but it fits me perfectly.
It’s perhaps too fancy for cake and coffee, but I needed to do something for myself.
I even took a minute to put on some mascara and lip gloss.
“It’s not gonna help you feel better,” I mutter to myself.
Because I still feel like crap about what I said to Vandal, no matter how hard I try to distract myself.
I’ll keep you safe.
You couldn’t even keep yourself safe.
“Urgh,” I mutter.
As if my thoughts have somehow conjured him, I hear the gentle hum of motorbikes that progressively get louder as I approach the bakery.
It’s quite a sight. A procession of chrome and leather. At least twenty bikes, riding in perfect synchronicity. And I’m not the only person who stops to watch them. I lift my hand to shade my eyes from the sun and wonder if Vandal is with them.
As if on cue, a bike takes a sharp pull over to my side of the road, and the others keep on going by without missing a beat.
It’s clear it’s Vandal before he pulls down the bandana that covers his face. He’s wearing a black T-shirt that hugs his biceps, and as always, his leather cut. Sweat dots his brow as he pulls to a stop next to me.
“Hey, Daze,” he says.
I step closer to his bike. “Vandal. I’m so sorry about what—”
“Don’t,” he says, cutting me off. “You didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.”
I place my hand on his arm and hope he can see the regret in my eyes. “But I shouldn’t have—”
“Daze. Please.” I’m not sure exactly what he’s asking me for beyond telling me to stop talking. “You look pretty enough to eat.”
I wish I could say the same for him. He looks tired, dark circles beneath his eyes. But, despite his exhaustion, the way he rakes his gaze over me is enough to make me believe his words. “Thank you. I have a date.”
The softness his face held a moment ago is gone in a heartbeat. “A date?”
I try to ignore the way my pussy clenches at the thought he’s jealous. “With Maren,” I add quickly, because taunting a man like this is unlikely to end well. “She asked if I’d like to meet her at the bakery after we both finished work.”
His shoulders relax almost immediately. “Oh. That’s good.”
“I figure it’s important to make some friends. You know, have some kind of life for me outside of being a mom and working in a bar. And she invited Elsie and me over after we drove her home.”
“Wild to think the club tended to avoid her, her being the sheriff’s daughter and all, until the whole Knox and the hurricane thing.”
The word sheriff hits funny. I want…no, I need to keep my distance from law enforcement. Maren never mentioned what her father did. I have a fleeting thought of pulling out of my lunch date but there are threads everywhere now that make it impossible.
As the sheriff’s daughter, she could make my life difficult.
Her boyfriend is the president of the Outlaws, who could also make things difficult for me.
So I’ll go. But I’ll keep it short and polite.
Vandal looks around. “No Elsie today?”
I shake my head. “She’s gone with a friend to a petting zoo. She’s very excited about seeing llamas.”
Vandal reaches for me and loops his fingers around my wrist. His grip is gentle. “You know who she’s gone with?”
“I do.”
“She got a phone with her?”
I raise my eyebrow. “She’s five. She doesn’t have a phone. But there’s a tracker in her sneaker connected to my phone.”
“Okay, good,” he says.
“It’s nice that you’re concerned about her.”
Vandal rubs his thumb over my wrist. “Find myself worrying about both of you.” But the words are muttered, as if he didn’t even mean to say them out loud.
Then his eyes meet mine. Occasionally with Vandal, he’s like a blurry picture coming into focus. His eyes look softer, calmer even. Like for the briefest moment, the storm clouds have parted, and I can see into his soul.
“Did you drive?” he asks.
I shake my head. “It was a nice day, and I have time for once, so I decided to walk. Thank you for getting my car fixed and for everything else you did.”
“You’re welcome. And I feel better knowing you have fresh brake pads on it. The old ones were worn.”
I got new brake pads?
Wow.
“And I’m sorry. For what I said in the road about looking out for us. For asking if you were sober enough to ride with Elsie.”
“It is what it is.” He looks in the direction of the bikers who have long since disappeared. “You need a ride later, you call me, yeah?”
While I can’t see myself climbing on a bike in this dress…or ever, at all, it’s sweet of him to think of me. “Thank you.”
He starts his bike again. “Don’t walk home in the dark.”
“I have to pick Elsie up in two hours. We won’t be late.”
Maren pulls up on a bicycle and waves to us both as she pulls over and grabs a lock out of her backpack. She’s wearing her bait shop uniform—a pale blue polo shirt and denim shorts—and I suddenly feel overdressed.
Vandal squeezes my wrist. “Hey, Daze, take care of yourself. I’ll see you around.”
With the rev of his engine, he pulls away from the curb, and his broad shoulders disappear down the road as dust kicks up behind him. If I wasn’t feeling a little stirred before, watching him ride his motorcycle with the utmost competence is something else.
Then I remember I didn’t thank him for the groceries. “Damn,” I mutter.
Maren walks over to me. “They’re something else, aren’t they. I swear it’s about power. The power of the bike. The power of the man. Maybe something symbiotic…or probably something those sexual-psychoanalysts or whatever they’re called would have a field day with.”
It’s clear she misunderstood my muttered curse, but I don’t correct her. “You may be onto something.”
Maren sighs. “They’re always so damn confident and capable. They always seem to be…ready. For life and all that. Like they know they’ll be able to face it head-on, that they already have the skills.”
You couldn’t even keep yourself safe.
Thinking about it now, I realize not only did he manage to stay alive that night of whatever he went through, and whatever happened after he ran back to the compound, but he also made sure Maren, Elsie, and I were all safe before he did.
“Is that how you ended up with Knox?”
Maren grins at the question. “I think that’s a question that requires cake.”
The coffee and cake are a splurge I should probably skip, but it’s been so long since I treated myself to anything nice that I can barely choose.
“Should we do the cake-tasting?” Maren asks. “Go wild a little?”
I shake my head. “As much as it sounds amazing, that’s a little out of my budget right now.”
Maren grins and pulls a credit card out of her pocket.
“Oh, no. We’re getting it because Knox slipped me his credit card and insisted that he was buying us our treats.
I obviously said no at first because I’m more than capable of buying my own cake.
” She rolls her eyes, as if to say, Duh!
“But then he muttered something about me buying my own cake not being, excuse my language, the fucking point, and that I should just let him do something nice.”