Page 13

CHAPTER 13

CHRISTINE

Me: Oh my God! He kissed me!

I send the text and flop down on my reading chair. My phone vibrates, and I eagerly glance at the screen.

Nelson: Congratulations. Or is this a bad thing?

Me: I think it’s good. At the time, I wanted him to kiss me.

Nelson: And now you regret it?

Turning sideways in the chair, I hang my legs over one of the arms and type out a reply.

Me: No, I don’t. But I hope things won’t be weird between us.

Nelson: Were there tongues involved?

Me: Yes.

Nelson: Way to go, Chris. I’m high fiving you right now.

I laugh.

Me: It’s like I can feel your pride coming through my screen.

Nelson: I’m so proud of you. It’s great to see you embracing new opportunities.

Me: Dude, I only went to one party and kissed one guy.

Nelson: Yeah, but the guy is your stepbrother. lmao.

Me: New stepbrother. It’s not like we grew up together.

Nelson: Did the two of you talk about what happens now?

Me: We both agreed not to do it again.

Nelson: Why not?

Me: For one, the stepsibling thing. And he’s busy with the playoffs.

Nelson: The Championship game is only three weeks away. Once that’s done, he’ll have a lot of free time.

Me: And I’ll be starting school.

Nelson: So? Classes won’t take up all of your time.

Me: No, but my schoolwork might.

Nelson: I think you’re both full of shit.

Me: How rude.

Nelson: I’m serious. Now that you’ve kissed, there’s no way it won’t happen again.

Me: You’re wrong.

Nelson: I’m not, but you’ll see.

Me: You’re annoying.

Nelson: Maybe. But I’m also right.

I take a picture of myself holding up my middle finger and send it to him. Nelson replies shortly after with a picture of himself, and across the front of his white t-shirt he’s written I’m right in bold, red lettering. I want to be annoyed but it only makes me laugh.

Me: Good one.

Nelson: Glad you liked it. Now, I’ve gotta run. Try to keep your tongue out of your stepbrother’s mouth for the rest of the night.

I roll my eyes and reply.

Me: I’ll see what I can do. Goodnight, Nellie.

Nelson: Night, Chris.

Setting down my phone, I close my eyes and replay the moments leading up to the kiss and also what transpired immediately following it. I want to regret what happened, but I can’t because I enjoyed every second and wish it had lasted even longer. And as much as I openly disagreed with Nelson when he said Griffin and I would give in to temptation again, I have a suspicion he’s right and I’m never going to hear the end of it.

My eyes are barely open, and I jump from the bed and dart over to sit at my desk. Last night inspiration was flowing and I wrote the chapter I’ve been stuck on for weeks. Despite having plenty of free time on my hands since I relocated, I haven’t been able to conjure up any words. Numerous times I’ve sat, staring at my laptop screen for hours with a combination of frustration and helplessness. But not last night…

I climb from the back of his motorcycle and stand on the pavement as I undo the chin strap. Jameson joins me and helps me remove my helmet.

“Thank you.” I hold out my hand and he shakes his head.

“I’ll carry it for you.”

“You don’t need to walk me to my door.”

“Says you. Your dad might have a different opinion.”

I walk toward the house without replying. It would only be a waste of time and breath. One thing I’ve learned in my twenty-five years of growing up with a dad who’s in a motorcycle club—bikers are stubborn as fuck, and my dad takes it to a level all his own.

With every step forward, I’m aware of Jameson behind me. When we reach the front door, he deftly takes the keys from my hand.

I scowl at him. “What the hell?”

He glances at me, an amused smile teasing his masculine lips. At the moment, I’m not sure if I want to punch him or kiss him. “You know the drill, so why are you surprised?” he asks.

“Because it’s ridiculous and outdated.”

“Who knew making sure someone’s safe is considered ridiculous?” he drolls, pushing the door open. He sets my helmet and keys down on a small table. “Stay here.”

While he moves through my home from room to room, I kick my shoes off and hang my purse on a hook. I run my fingers through my long, dark hair, combing through the wind-blown tangles.

“All set,” he calls out from the kitchen, and I head that way. He grabs two sodas from the fridge, offering one to me.

Our fingers brush as he hands it over, causing the zing of attraction I always feel with him. “Help yourself,” I sass.

He winks. “Already did.”

The manly scent of his cologne teases my nose as it always does. I swear, being in his company is a constant temptation, one that I scold myself about every single day. Jameson Dawson is not the kind of man I should be attracted to. He’s coarse, callous, and worst of all a member of The Bastards MC. But tell that to my heart. It wants what it wants. I guess my vagina’s just as stubborn because it wants him too. Even though my brain knows better, knows what a colossal mistake being with Jameson would be, I still can’t put an end to my ever growing feelings. I must be a glutton for punishment because it’s not like he’s ever done anything to hint at an attraction for me.

Setting my soda can on the counter, I open the fridge and pluck the small container from the shelf. My mom and I had dinner together a couple nights ago and she sent me home with two pieces of pie. Grabbing a fork, I remove the cover, and take a bite. My mouth fills with the taste of cinnamon and sweet apples. Humming, I shovel another forkful between my lips.

Jameson comes up behind me. “What’s got you sounding so pleased over here?”

I lean over the counter, curving my torso and arms around the container. “Go away.”

His deep laugh tickles my ear right before his hands grip the edge of the granite on either side of me. His chest is a warm, muscular wall against my back. “What are you gonna do now, Becca?

I take another bite of pie, and he notices. He spins me around to face him as I chew. “I want some,” he says, staring at my lips. I’m not sure if he means me or the pie, but I’m smart enough to know which is the prudent choice. I spear a chunk with the fork and raise it to his parted lips. His mouth wraps around the metal tines, and he moans while he chews.

“Goddamn, that’s sinfully good,” he says.

I know something else that would taste sinfully good, and he’s standing in front of me.

There are only two bites left, so I take one and then feed the second to him. His eyes stare deeply into mine as the prongs disappear between his lips, charging the air with tension. I wouldn’t be surprised if my hair was standing on end with the electricity flying between us.

He plucks the fork and container from my hands, setting them on the counter behind me. “That pie was amazing.” He clutches my hips, tugging me closer.

“Right? I’m glad you liked it so much. No one makes it better than my mom,” I nervously babble.

His heavy-lidded gaze lowers to my mouth. “But there’s something else I’ve been dying to taste. Something even sweeter and more satisfying.”

Sitting back in my chair, I fan my face and grin. I can feel the tension between them through my screen, and I can’t wait to jump back in and write some more. But first, I need to shower and then a visit to the bookstore is in order. It’s time to fill my beautiful bookcase.

“Christine!” My name’s shouted as I walk down the stadium’s cement stairs. Seeing an arm raise and a hand wave, I continue in that direction.

I smile when I reach Scarlett and Autumn. “Hey.”

“Hi. Fancy meeting you here,” Scarlett jokes.

“What’s up?” Autumn asks, giving me a questioning look.

I wrap the thick fleece blanket around my torso and legs before sitting down. “I know this might be a bit much, but even with a winter coat on, I froze at the one game I attended.”

Scarlett shrugs. “Girl, you do whatever you need to. I’ve got my long underwear on under my jeans and shirt, and I’m wearing a wool sweater underneath my jacket.”

“Where did you get that Silverbacks blanket?” Autumn asks.

“I don’t know, actually. Griffin got it for me.”

Scarlett and Autumn share a look that compels me to elaborate. “He asked me to come to the game, and I told him I was practically frozen after the last one, so he brought this home for me.” I rub my hand over the soft material. “He said I needed Silverbacks gear to look like a legit fan.”

“You definitely fit in with that. Is it as warm as it looks?” Scarlett asks.

I hold my thumb up. “So far so good. We’ll see how I fare throughout the game.” My eyes scan from one side of the stadium to the other, taking in all the fans. A sea of red and black stretches out in every direction, punctuated by the sprinkles of brown and orange worn by the Mustang fans.

“Do you follow football?” Scarlett asks.

“No. I learned a little when I came to a game with my mom and stepdad. But feel free to fill me in on what’s going on.”

“The Mustangs won the coin toss and they just kicked the ball to us,” Scarlett explains. The crowd roars as one of the Silverbacks catches the football at the five yard line. Shooting forward, he winds through defenders, gaining solid yardage before he’s taken down near the twenty. The stadium erupts with cheers, showing how fired up the fans already are.

I watch as Griffin jogs onto the field with his teammates, looking every bit as focused and determined as the last time I was here. A flutter of excitement curls low in my stomach as I watch him line up. I’m hit with a memory of our kiss, and quickly dispel the visual. I’m here to support my stepbrother, and spending time with my two new friends happens to be a welcome bonus.

“Come on, Rogan!” Autumn shouts, startling Scarlett and me.

Scarlett sends a side-eye her way before she turns to me. “You better get used to that. She does it a lot.”

“You didn’t seem prepared for it,” I point out.

She nods, her expression filled with irony. “I wasn’t, but I will be now.”

The ball is snapped to Rogan. He drops back, assesses his options, and fires a rocket straight over the middle to Cooper for a ten yard gain.

“That’s my man!” Scarlett shouts, surprising me. She smiles apologetically and pats my leg. “Sorry about that. Looks like you better be ready for my outbursts too.”

I laugh. “No worries. I’ll just scream for Griffin, and we’ll all be even.”

She nods. “Perfect.”

The team looks like a well-oiled machine gaining yardage with each play. I find myself grinning as I get caught up in the excitement. And best of all, between all the layers I’m wearing and the blanket, my face is all that’s cold.

“They’re so close to the end zone,” Autumn says, pressing her palms together. “God, please let them score and I’ll be nicer to Scarlett.”

Scarlett snorts and I laugh.

Rogan hands the ball off to their running back, who gets taken down four yards shy. We watch them form a huddle before they line up once more. This time when Rogan drops back, Griffin bursts toward the end zone. Dodging his opponent, he jumps, snatching the ball from the air, and lands, planting both feet flat on the field. The entire stadium explodes with deafening cheers, jumping to their feet—myself included. I shout Griffin’s name as loud as I can.

When we finally return to our seats, Scarlett’s elbow jostles me. “What do you think so far?”

My lips stretch as a wide smile takes over the bottom portion of my face. “I think I kind of love football.”