Page 73
Story: Haze
After my business, Lu’s Sweet Treats, was torched by some enemy biker club, Haze picked me up and brought me back here for my safety. We mostly ignored each other in the car, just like we did the other times I’ve been around him, but the tension between us was thick. After he rejected me so easily, he wouldn’t let Blade, another MC brother and resident tech wizard, drive me home.
He insisted on it being him.
That pissed me off.
Apparently, free will isn’t something women connected to the club are given.
But I’m not going to be stupid. I live at home alone, and I like breathing. I’m not going to die before I tick off my travel and concert bucket lists. So if staying here keeps me safe, well, and out of the hands of evil bikers, I’m going to stay here.
Even if it means seeing Haze, who, by the way, I was told is hardly here and stays at his own house. But guess what? He’s been here every night since I moved in a week ago.
Every single night.
I was clearly lied to.
So I do what any mature woman with a petty streak and a big ego would do, I try to pretend he doesn’t exist, and it doesn’t hurt that a club whore named Daisy told him that she’s pregnant with his child.
Yeah, that doesn’t hurt at all.
It’s not like I had our future children’s names picked out since I was ten or anything.
Yeah, he does not exist to me.
Even when he walks around with nothing but a low-slung pair of jeans on, the top button undone like he is right now, he steps into the kitchen where I’m baking.
While my business is being rebuilt, I’ve decided to start a catering business working from the kitchen here at the clubhouse. I’m a woman who needs to stay busy, and my bakery has been my life for as long as I can remember.
Before I opened it, I was planning for it.
Before I started planning for it, I was dreaming about it.
When I was approved for a business loan and found the location with extremely cheap rent, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. Without it, I’m a mess, but catering will keep me busy until I’m able to reopen my doors.
What I don’t have time for is to sit around and salivate at the sexy abs and deep V Haze has going on, or that trail of hair to the center of it, which leads to a cock that’s apparently community property in this clubhouse.
“Luella, we need to talk,” Haze says, leaning back against the counter and studying me. He’s still the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid my eyes on. I don’t know what changed with him, but he’s softened toward me since we first saw each other again. I’d love to be able to read his mind because fuck, his hot and cold has me confused. My gaze lands on his tattoos, two full sleeves that also cover his hands, but his chest and abs are untouched. I see music notes, skulls, and snakes all intertwined to turn his body into a piece of art. It’s not that it needed the ink. His muscles are so sculpted and ripped that my mouth starts to water.
“It’s Lu. No one calls me Luella.”
His brow creases. “I’ve always called you Luella. Your name is too pretty to shorten.”
“That was back then. And this is now,” I remind him, whisking the cake mix in a big metal bowl. “Just like you used to be Hayden to me, and now you are Haze.”
Hurt ripples across his handsome face before he can mask it. I don’t want to hurt him. I just want him to leave me alone. He has a power over me that I don’t like, and I don’t want to be hurt. He’s a weakness I do not need right now.
Hayden is protective but not an asshole. He never let his baby sister, Aspen, or me, by extension, date any boys. Anything we did, we had to do in secret.
My Hayden played me sweet songs, gave me rides to and from school and training, and made sure I ate. He knew my parents didn’t care what I did, and even though he was only two years older, he stepped up to make sure I was cared for.
Haze is a playboy biker and has knocked up some woman who sleeps with everyone at the club.
As long as you’re wearing a patch, you’re in.
I’m going to make her a T-shirt that says that for Christmas.
But I suppose Hayden wasn’t perfect, was he? He still hurt me in the end.
“I’m still Hayden,” he rasps in a low tone, so quiet I barely make out the words. I see a flash of metal as his tongue swipes over his bottom lip. “And you’re still my Luella.”
He insisted on it being him.
That pissed me off.
Apparently, free will isn’t something women connected to the club are given.
But I’m not going to be stupid. I live at home alone, and I like breathing. I’m not going to die before I tick off my travel and concert bucket lists. So if staying here keeps me safe, well, and out of the hands of evil bikers, I’m going to stay here.
Even if it means seeing Haze, who, by the way, I was told is hardly here and stays at his own house. But guess what? He’s been here every night since I moved in a week ago.
Every single night.
I was clearly lied to.
So I do what any mature woman with a petty streak and a big ego would do, I try to pretend he doesn’t exist, and it doesn’t hurt that a club whore named Daisy told him that she’s pregnant with his child.
Yeah, that doesn’t hurt at all.
It’s not like I had our future children’s names picked out since I was ten or anything.
Yeah, he does not exist to me.
Even when he walks around with nothing but a low-slung pair of jeans on, the top button undone like he is right now, he steps into the kitchen where I’m baking.
While my business is being rebuilt, I’ve decided to start a catering business working from the kitchen here at the clubhouse. I’m a woman who needs to stay busy, and my bakery has been my life for as long as I can remember.
Before I opened it, I was planning for it.
Before I started planning for it, I was dreaming about it.
When I was approved for a business loan and found the location with extremely cheap rent, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. Without it, I’m a mess, but catering will keep me busy until I’m able to reopen my doors.
What I don’t have time for is to sit around and salivate at the sexy abs and deep V Haze has going on, or that trail of hair to the center of it, which leads to a cock that’s apparently community property in this clubhouse.
“Luella, we need to talk,” Haze says, leaning back against the counter and studying me. He’s still the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid my eyes on. I don’t know what changed with him, but he’s softened toward me since we first saw each other again. I’d love to be able to read his mind because fuck, his hot and cold has me confused. My gaze lands on his tattoos, two full sleeves that also cover his hands, but his chest and abs are untouched. I see music notes, skulls, and snakes all intertwined to turn his body into a piece of art. It’s not that it needed the ink. His muscles are so sculpted and ripped that my mouth starts to water.
“It’s Lu. No one calls me Luella.”
His brow creases. “I’ve always called you Luella. Your name is too pretty to shorten.”
“That was back then. And this is now,” I remind him, whisking the cake mix in a big metal bowl. “Just like you used to be Hayden to me, and now you are Haze.”
Hurt ripples across his handsome face before he can mask it. I don’t want to hurt him. I just want him to leave me alone. He has a power over me that I don’t like, and I don’t want to be hurt. He’s a weakness I do not need right now.
Hayden is protective but not an asshole. He never let his baby sister, Aspen, or me, by extension, date any boys. Anything we did, we had to do in secret.
My Hayden played me sweet songs, gave me rides to and from school and training, and made sure I ate. He knew my parents didn’t care what I did, and even though he was only two years older, he stepped up to make sure I was cared for.
Haze is a playboy biker and has knocked up some woman who sleeps with everyone at the club.
As long as you’re wearing a patch, you’re in.
I’m going to make her a T-shirt that says that for Christmas.
But I suppose Hayden wasn’t perfect, was he? He still hurt me in the end.
“I’m still Hayden,” he rasps in a low tone, so quiet I barely make out the words. I see a flash of metal as his tongue swipes over his bottom lip. “And you’re still my Luella.”
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