Page 33 of Rogue’s Path (Sweet Chaos #1)

Dylan

Rogue lifts me out of the truck, letting me slide down his body excruciatingly slowly. He enjoys tempting me.

Before I can get caught in his delicious web, I step to his side and thread my arm through his.

We walk through a neighborhood I would be terrified to visit alone, but with him by my side, I’m not worried at all.

He asked about my name. Turnabout is fair play and all of that. “So why Rogue? I figure this isn’t the name on your birth certificate.”

“It might as well be. Rogue is more of who I am than a name on a piece of paper.”

I love that he got to pick who he wanted to be. “Do your parents mind?”

“No. At first, they thought I'd lost my mind joining a motorcycle club. But they got over it quickly. My parents told me they never cared what I did or how I wanted to live as long as I worked hard and respected people, myself included.”

“Do you get to see them often?” Why do I want so badly for him to have a great relationship with his parents?

“Not as much as I’d like. They retired a few years ago and moved down south.

I go down to see them a couple of times a year.

I asked them a few times to move closer to me, but they love living on the beach in a small town.

They know everyone’s name and are able to step out of their house and into the ocean almost year-round. Can’t say it’s a bad place to settle.”

That must be nice.

“Do you see your parents?”

That’s such a loaded question. “Yes. They determined that twice a year is the acceptable number of times for me to visit. Even as an adult, they plan so that my time is split according to a custody arrangement with each parent receiving equal time. When I fly in, they give me a schedule and tell me whose house I’m staying at this time. ” It’s all very civilized.

The scent of trash cans and dog excrement fades away as we turn a corner into a fancier neighborhood. It’s replaced by the rich scent of orchids and lilies. The foot traffic increases the deeper we get into the neighborhood. Rogue weaves us through the people wandering around.

Once we get to a quieter area, I ask. “So where did Rogue come from?”

He smiles. “Street names are a bit of a hazing, which turns into your identity. I’ve always been a team player, even before I knew what it meant.

Dad and Mom would always have me help with household projects.

Then came team sports, and I found my niche in life.

I knew I’d be better working with others. ”

That has got to be the most emotionally mature thing I’ve ever heard anyone say. “Were you always the captain of your teams?”

“Never. I didn’t want to be the boss. It never interested me.”

“Then why are you the VP of your club?” That seems like a leadership role to me.

“Havoc insisted. He’s been my best friend since we were boys. Where he goes, I go, and where I go, he goes.”

“You're real, right?” Semi-seriously, I reach around and poke his chest where his jacket isn’t fully zipped up. “Because men like you don’t exist.”

He leans his head back to chuckle, exposing his corded neck.

Why is that sexy?

Because you think everything he does is sexy. I mean, a bad boy biker who is emotionally mature has to be the most enticing thing ever created.

It hits me. Literally, the scent of fried meat and caramelized onions slaps me in the face. “What is that? Please tell me it’s lunch, because if it wasn’t what we were eating, change of plans. I need that in my mouth now.”

“Philly cheesesteak is definitely what we’re eating. I didn’t drive an hour out of the way to eat at one of these fancy restaurants that charge an arm and a leg for a half a bite of something strange tasting.”

I hate places like those. They remind me of my parents. Perfectly contrived but emotionless. “If it’s as good as it smells, I’ll marry you just so you take me here.”

“Deal.” Rogue gives me a grin and a wink.

What? No. I didn’t mean it like that. Did I? He’s teasing. He’s got to be teasing me.

***

“That had to be the best meal I’ve eaten—well, since those burnt ends—if you keep feeding me like this, I’m never going to want to go home.” Cooking for myself sounds like such a drudgery.

“Got it.” He takes my hand in his as we start to walk back towards the car.

“You know what? I have no idea how many hours we’ve been on the road trip.” I lift my wrist to look at my watch, only to remember it’s not there. This stupid stalker has to taint everything.

“Why don’t we get you a new one?” Rogue nods towards a jewelry store on the other side of the street.

“No. No. There’s no need for that. I can wait until Vandal is done with mine.”

He squeezes my fingers gently and pulls me closer. “There’s never a need for jewelry. Let’s go get it for you anyway.”

“Seriously, I don’t need anything.”

“Have I told you how cute you are today, Peaches? And stubborn.” He starts leading us toward the store. Jaywalking without a care in the world.

“That seems to be another thing we have in common.” Frustratingly sweet man.

“I know.”

Self-assured men shouldn’t be that attractive. I can afford to pay for a new watch, but I have this feeling Rogue isn’t going to be agreeable to that.

The man behind the counter stares at Rogue apprehensively as we walk. The guard stands up from the little chair in the corner he’s sitting on. What is an old man going to do to stop Rogue?

Profile people much? Just because Rogue is wearing a motorcycle jacket doesn’t mean he’s a thief. I mean, he steals hearts pretty well.

The man behind the counter clears his throat and finds his voice. “How can I help you two?”

“We’re looking for a watch for my girlfriend.”

Presumptuous man.

“Of course. What price range were you looking to stay in?”

Such a polite way of asking if we’re poor.

“No price range. She can have whatever she wants.”

I don’t know if I should be scared or impressed by that answer.

“This store carries very luxurious brands. Several cost tens of thousands of dollars.”

Rogue just raises an eyebrow at the man.

“Our watches…are…um…over here.” The salesman walks over to the other side of the store.

We start to follow him, but Rogue stops halfway there. “While she’s picking them, you can wrap up these earrings for her.”

“Which ones?” Like a rat excited about the cheese in front of him, he scurries over.

“Those peach ones.”

Rogue has amazing taste. They are simple, classic, and elegant. They would go well with my wardrobe. The stones aren’t huge, but they shimmer just enough to draw attention to the wearer’s ears. “Those are beautiful.”

“Um…those are…natural peach sapphires. They’re incredibly rare and expensive.”

Rogue doesn’t say anything. He pulls out his wallet and hands the man a black credit card.

“I’ll be right back.”

Never have I seen eyes bulge quite like that. This guy is going to be the inspiration for the next time someone gets strangled to death in my books.

“Now for your watch…”

It isn’t as easy as most people think to pick a watch. They all look the same.

Rogue’s phone rings. He doesn’t move away when he answers. “What?”

I stop looking and try to listen unobtrusively, to no avail.

“Yeah. It’s for Peaches.” Rogue rubs his thumb along my palm. “Clear the charges for the store. I’m going to get another item or two.” He clicks off. “Have you found one you like?”

“No. Not yet. I’m not usually this indecisive.”

“It’s probably all the stress. Don’t worry about it.” Rogue glances down at the case. “What about this one? It matches your earrings.”

There are so many stones on the watch face. “It’s too much.”

“So, we go simpler.”