Page 125 of Preacher Man

More silence.

Fuck.

"I do, Asher." Her voice quiet.

"Good. I'll let you go stick needles in a brother." Dropping a kiss on her lips he walked her back to the main entryway, wound a fist full of her hair around his hand, tipped her head back and devoured her mouth in a kiss that left him fucking aroused.

"Wow." Ruby swayed, leaning into him.

"You're so damn beautiful, have I ever told you that?" Foreheads met, eyes locked. Preacher would swear she was embarrassed by the compliment.

"Thank you."

“You’re too damn good for me. Go inside before I take you here. Come by tonight, Ruby. I need to see you."

"I will." She touched the side of his face briefly, "go and get some sleep, Preacher man. you're going to need it." She laughed and left him there, tongue out, and watching her ass sway left and right.

Saucy little minx.

Ruby had done the impossible. She'd brought him back from the brink of an episode and she'd made him feel better.

What else was he to do except keep this woman?

War and death had been his shadows for a long time, but he could say at least he'd kissed a goddess.

She was imprinted on his soul, somehow it had happened, she'd just sneaked in there and made herself at home.

He might be a little mad, he reasoned. But at least he knew that.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

“Going back to the past doesn’t hurt, it’s returning to the future without someone you love that does the hurting.” – Ruby

Ruby had to eat crow regarding the Renegade Souls boys. She’d had preconceived judgments about that crew of people simply because they were bikers. They were some of the best bunch of men she’d ever met who had a long reach for caring for their own.

Sweetheart bikers. Now there was an oxymoron.

Maybe it was just the bikers she’d been around that were assholes, and she could attest, she wouldn’t spit on those men her father associated with if they were on fire. Either way, she liked working at the RS. And it wasn’t bad getting to know Zara, either. They'd become friendly in a short amount of time.

They’d all thanked her for what she’d done for Preacher like she had delivered some big presentation in front of all of them and they’d been impressed with the PowerPoint.

They cared and they cared big and didn’t mind who knew it. Bikers with hearts, it was a thing, apparently.

She sat sideways on the couch, her knees touching Preacher’s thigh. She’d brought home Mexican food, watched him eat all of it, made sure he drank some water, not beer, he looked more rested than he had earlier.

“Can you tell me about what happens to you, Asher? Does your PTSD have triggers?” she’d scoured the internet on her break, reading everything she could, soaking up information and treatments for his condition.

The silence said he was deciding whether to blow her off or not. She let him make that decision, she wanted to know because he wanted her to know, not because she’d pressured him into it.

“It comes and goes, it’s been a while. It can be noises that set it off, like today with that car backfiring. Or it is lack of sleep. I don’t try to get to that point if I can help it.”

“That’s why you won’t sleep next to me? Because of what Red Light said?”

“Yeah.” He gruffed, not meeting her eyes. “Can’t chance I have at attack in my sleep.”

“What if you never do again, we can’t ever sleep together?”

“Maybe. I don’t know, beautiful. I’m trying to manage it, but honestly, I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.”