Rough Hand (Rock Bridge Ruffians, Book One) Page 7

  Tommy frowns. “You sure?”

  “You guys work damn hard. Enjoy your night off.”

  Cade salutes me. “Thanks, man.” He cleans up and heads out, and Tommy does the same.

  When Alexa sees them passing, she shoots me a confused glance. “Where are they going?”

  I walk over and flick our sign to closed. Her confusion turns to wariness.

  “What’s going on, Levi?”

  When I get just a foot or so away from her, I murmur, “I know.”

  “Know what?”

  “About your parents.”

  Alexa just stands there, her face turning pale right before my eyes. She doesn’t breathe, doesn’t move. “How?” she finally asks in a tight voice.

  “Someone found it online.”

  She closes her eyes and curses. “Should have known we couldn’t escape it.” Her eyes fly open, and she’s filled with panic. “Oh God, now everyone is going to know. They’re all going to know and judge—”

  “Shh,” I whisper, drawing her against me. She’s stiff in my arms, but I keep holding her. I know what she’s feeling right now. “I won’t let anyone judge you or hurt you. You’re safe, sweetheart.”

  Alexa sucks in a shaky breath, and then I hear a gasping sob and she clenches my shirt. Her shudders are silent, but the soft movements break me into a million pieces. I wrap her tight against me, let her cry, let her release everything in her.

  She’s sagging against me for a long minute, then she sniffles and straightens, wiping her eyes as she looks away from me.

  “Oh, no you don’t,” I say, taking her chin in my hand, forcing her to stare into my eyes. “None of that shit. The truth is out. No more hiding.”

  “Sorry.” She gives a watery smile. “No one really understands what I’m going through, and it’s hard because I don’t have anywhere to turn to. I didn’t mean to cry all over you—it just came out.”

  It’s right on the tip of my tongue to tell her. Let her know my own past. But I can’t. The thought of talking about my life and what I’ve gone through is too much.

  Even the quick flashes I sometimes get make me want to tear my hair out. Talking about it…I might break. I might seriously lose my sanity.

  This is already pushing my comfort zones, and I don’t know how I feel about it.

  I don’t know how to do this, to protect my own secrets while helping her with hers. But I have to try. I caress her chin and drop a kiss on her mouth, then on her eyelids. “This is still really new for you, and you’re raw from dealing with it. No apologies necessary.” I pull back and look at her damp, red eyes. “I know just the thing to cheer you.”

  “Yeah?” She swipes at her eyes again and attempts to smile.

  “You a fan of key lime pie?”

  “God, yes.”

  “There’s a place near here that serves the best you’ll ever had. Aunt Sylvia runs the joint—she isn’t my aunt, but everyone calls her that. It’s about time to introduce you to some of the good people in town. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

  Alexa swallows and gives me a brave smile, and suddenly I’m ashamed, because I can’t be as courageous as her. I’m brash, loud, strong, a fighter, but thinking about my past is too much to handle. And here she is, this little wisp of a woman, forced to deal with it, and to take care of two emotionally wounded sisters as well. She’s fucking amazing.

  I’m in real danger of losing myself to her if I don’t make sure to keep my heart in line.

  The next several days go by quickly and it feels like something has shifted. Alexa’s past is out in the open between us, and while she’s still slightly on edge around customers, she’s starting to loosen up with each day that passes.

  And the heated looks she and I send each other…I want to fucking devour her. I can’t stop myself from touching her every chance I get. I’m flirting with danger, because I know Tommy or Cade are going to bust me soon enough, and then I’m gonna fucking hear all about it. But I can’t help it.

  I crave her. She’s sunk into my veins, like heroine, and I need every little fix of her that I can get.

  It’s Wednesday, and I’m in the back, doing routine maintenance on a chopper I built last year. Fucking thing still looks amazing—it’s one of my best jobs, and I’m proud as hell of it.

  “God, she’s a beauty,” Cade says as he walks around the bike. “I forgot how gorgeous this one is. That red is stunning.”

  “Yeah, she’s amazing,” I say without shame.

  “And such modesty,” he says with intended sarcasm.

  “I don’t need to be modest. I’m talented.”

  Cade throws a dirty rag at me, and I laugh.

  “—not telling me what I want to hear,” a man’s voice is saying from the front room. I pause and listen.

  Alexa’s voice is low and steady, but firm as she says, “Sorry, but Levi is booked with work right now. He won’t be able to do a custom build of this level for at least three months. But trust me, he’s worth the wait. We’ll be happy to contact you once he’s ready, and—”

  “No, fuck that. I happen to know he’s fitting in a friend’s custom bike next month, so don’t give me this three-months bullshit. Go back and check the schedule again—you probably misread it.”

  “No, I didn’t,” she replies. “I know how to read his schedule, and we discuss it regularly.”

  I stand and start to walk toward the front when I hear the man mumble something under his breath, finishing with, “—with your incompetence, you’re gonna drive me to committing a murder-suicide too.”

  When I get in there, Alexa’s staring in horror at him, her hands clenched in fists.

  I walk up to the pudgy asshole, Mark, a guy I know through a friend of a friend, and grab him by the collar. He blinks in shock at me and holds up his hands.

  “Whoa, whoa, I’m a customer,” he says in protest. “I didn’t put a hand on her, I swear.”

  All I see is red. All I feel is fury. I shake Mark hard until his teeth are practically rattling in his stupid fucking skull. I tug him close until our eyes are inches apart and spit out, “You are never to step foot inside my shop again, do you understand me? I’m about three seconds from pounding your stupid fucking face in with my fist, so I suggest you shut the fuck up and leave before I change my mind.”

  I release his shirt, and he stands there for a moment, shaking, looking around in confusion.

  There are a few other customers nearby, watching us.

  I shove his chest, and he stumbles back. “The next person who says a negative word about Alexa and her situation will get their asses handed to them by me and my friends, is that clear?” I add. “She’s under my protection. Go ask around and learn what that means.”

  Mark clears his throat. “Fuck, I’m sorry, man—”

  “Don’t apologize to me, you ass wipe,” I growl. I point to her.

  The man mumbles an apology to her, then spins and opens the door.

  When I turn to face Alexa, drawing in slow breaths to ease my anger, I see her eyes wide, fixed on me. Her face is etched with fear.

  I feel horrible for scaring her, and I’m about to tell her so.

  Then she flings herself into my arms, tugging me in her embrace, thanking me in a whisper. I’m so shocked by her reaction that I don’t move for a moment. I finally get my senses together and wrap her in my arms, kiss her mouth in a bold, claiming move, not giving a fuck if Cade or Tommy can see.

  “I…I didn’t know what to say to him,” she says breathlessly when she pulls back. Her eyes are red and watery, and she blinks. “I was frozen, just shocked, unable to think or move. And then you were there and you made him stop…”

  “Of course I did,” I said, stroking the back of her neck. “No one is going to fucking hurt you here. I promise you that.” I’ll die before I let anyone else take another cheap pot shot at her like that.

  Let Mark and the other customers spread the word around. I dare any asshole in Rock Bridge to mak
e her feel unwelcome or uncomfortable here. Not with the trauma she’s gone through. She deserves to feel safe and secure.

  “I’m gonna go in the bathroom and clean up,” she says with a sniffle.

  “Take your time. You can go home if you want.”

  “No. I’m finishing my work day here.” And there’s the stubborn light in her eyes, the clench of her jaw. That’s my girl—not letting that asshole scare her.

  I stroke her cheek and then watch her walk away. When she’s in the restroom, I stalk into the back and go right to Tommy, who’s standing beside Cade staring at me. It’s clear they saw and heard the whole exchange.

  The guilt on Tommy’s face is enough evidence to me. I know exactly how that fucknut Mark found out about Alexa.

  “Man, I’m sorry,” Tommy says, shoving his hands in his jeans pocket. “I take full responsibility for this.”

  “You have no fucking idea what she’s been through, only what you’ve read. You don’t know how she’s trying to piece her life together, what it’s like when you—” I stop myself just in time from telling Tommy exactly how I know her struggle. I swallow. “You fucked up.”

  “I did. And I’m going to apologize to her, own it. A buddy and I were drinking and talking about something or another, and it just came up. I didn’t realize some asshole would try to talk to her that way.” Tommy frowns. “I feel shitty about it.”

  “Alexa is going to be safe here, do you feel me?” I tell him.

  He nods. “I’ll fix this.”

  “Good.” I walk away, Cade on my heels.

  “You okay?” he asks me.

  I give a curt nod. “Fine. Why?”

  “Because I imagine that probably triggered some shit for you,” he says gently.

  “Not fucking now.” I don’t want to rip those seams open. It’s hard enough keeping myself stitched together every day, trying to outrun my past. “Back off.”

  “Man, you can’t keep shoving things down. It’s not healthy.”

  I turn toward him, ready to lash out, but I see nothing but honest concern in his eyes. Cade is my oldest friend. He cares about me. He’s been by my side from day one—when I was a gawky 12-year-old telling him my dream of owning a motorcycle shop, he supported me, and then he came on to work with me.

  My anger fades. “I know. I’m just… I can’t. Not now. Maybe not ever. I need to let it go.”

  Cade claps my shoulder then drops his hand. “I’m here if you want to talk.” He turns and goes back into the shop, and the sounds of business resuming again fill the air.

  I sit down at my desk and stare blindly at my computer. Fuck. Everything is getting so twisted, so tangled, and I’m struggling more and more to keep my head cool, to not let things impact me. I’m feeling again. Pieces of my chest are being cracked open like an oyster. But there’s no pearl in the middle of me.

  There’s just a dark, solid mass of pain and sadness that I don’t want to see.

  I keep hoping if I ignore it, it’ll fade away for good.

  I just hope that I’m strong enough to help Alexa face her demons even as I try to keep mine at bay.

  Even now, I can feel the old memories trying to surface—not just what happened with my mother, but everything that came afterward.

  I feel like I’m falling and I close my eyes, willing it all to go away, and knowing that I’m closer to the edge than I’ve ever been.

  Alexa

  When I get to Levi’s apartment door, I pause. Steady myself and smooth my hair down, which was blowing in the wind, so it’s a bit of a mess. I’m so nervous that my heart won’t stop pounding against my ribcage like a bird trying to break free of a cage. Levi asked me to have dinner with him tonight.

  At his place.

  On a real date.

  He and I have finally both stopped trying to pretend there isn’t anything between us. Since he found out about my parents’ death, the walls have been crumbling down. We spend our lunch breaks together every day, sharing old memories and learning more about each other. I’ve learned his favorite food is meatloaf, he hates peas, and he’s a secret snobby scotch drinker—though he doesn’t tell the guys at the shop that, or they’d bust his balls for being uppity.

  Tonight I wore a simple red dress that hugs my curves and has a flattering neckline showing a hint of cleavage. Nothing crazy, but it makes me feel pretty. Kayla and I went shopping earlier this week for it.

  I was glad that she texted me and asked if I wanted to hang out. She wasn’t upset with me for quitting the salon; she understood I needed to go where the money was, so I could support my sisters. But when I admitted to her that I was kinda sorta seeing someone, she suggested we have lunch and go shopping for my first date in months and months.

  Oh God, do I even remember how to do this?

  I mentally roll my eyes at myself. Knock it off. It’s Levi. I’ve known him for a couple of months now. It’s not like this is a blind date or anything.

  Still, there’s something so intimate and serious about him inviting me over to his place. We’re moving beyond the work environment. Acknowledging this chemistry, this connection.

  The door suddenly opens, and I jump a little, startled. Levi gives me a devastatingly handsome grin. His hair is styled, and he has on a black dress shirt rolled up the forearms and jeans that hug his leg muscles in all the right ways. “You just gonna stand there, or do you wanna actually come in?”

  I feel my face flush. “How did you know I was here?”

  He laughs. “I have a window, you know. I saw you pull up. When you didn’t knock, I started wondering where you were.”

  “Oh.” I smack my forehead. “I’m dumb. I was just…”

  “Not changing your mind, right?” He narrows his eyes in a mock stare.

  “Nope.” I lean up and kiss him, letting my nerves melt away with the gesture. He takes me into his strong arms, and I’m breathless, unable to think about anything but the way he feels against me.

  He starts to pull me inside, but I laugh and say, “Hold on,” then lean down to grab the bag beside me.

  He raises a brow. “Oh, you brought me a present?”

  “Dessert. And…” I reach into the bag and procure the bottle, handing it to him.

  His eyes warm with appreciation and gratitude. “Glenfiddich, eighteen-year. Well done! This wasn’t cheap.”

  “I figured if I’m gonna learn how to drink scotch, I should start with something good, right?”

  When he brushes his lips across my forehead, an intimate and familiar gesture, my heart dissolves into blissful little pieces. “God, you’re amazing. Come in, come in,” he says, pulling back and leading me into his place.

  I wasn’t sure what to expect…but this wasn’t it. I look around his apartment, taking it in. The décor is clean and modern, with low couches and tables composed of mixed metals and woods.

  “That’s gorgeous,” I say, pointing to the coffee table, which has… “Is that motorcycle parts in it?”

  He beams. “Sure as fuck is.” Moves over to the open-floor kitchen and pulls the bottle out of its cardboard box, then opens it. “Had it custom made by a friend who does amazing woodwork. He also made the end tables.”

  “This is a really cool space,” I say. I walk over to him. “Need help?”

  His eyes grow hooded, and he looks down at my mouth, and suddenly my pussy is clenching hard.

  It hits me yet again.

  I’m here, in his apartment.

  Where his bed is.

  Where there’s no one or nothing to get in our way.

  He can obviously see the thoughts flickering across my face, because he gives me a wicked smile that makes my insides tighten in anticipation. “Yes, dirty girl, I need help. But after dinner.” He takes my mouth in a firm kiss then pulls back and pours us two drinks. “I only gave you one finger to start with.”

  I can’t help it—I laugh. “Boy, that sounds pretty tawdry.”

  He laughs too and shakes his head. “Sc
otch is measured in fingers.” He goes to his freezer and gets one big square stone from the shelf, drops it in my glass, then hands it to me. “This will keep the scotch cool without watering it down. Most people don’t start off drinking theirs at room temperature. I figured you might want to ease into it.”

  I take a cautious sip. The drink slides down my throat in a quick burn that spreads to my chest and warms me from the inside. It’s strong, but smooth. I blink in surprise. “Wow. This is…good.”

  “Don’t look so shocked. I have amazing taste.” He clinks his glass against mine. “Now, go have a seat at the table while I get dinner finished.”

  “You cooked?” I’m learning all kinds of shit about him that I didn’t know. I figured he’d order takeout.

  He gives me a mock glare. “Of course I cooked. I’ve been self-sufficient for a long time. I learned early on how to cook.”

  “Why? Were your parents busy working?”

  The moment passes so fast that if I weren’t looking at his face, I would have missed it, but I caught the way his eyes tightened a fraction, the way his mouth thinned. “No.”

  That’s it. Just no.

  My stomach gives a funny lurch. Do I drop it, or do I ask more questions?

  “I didn’t have the best childhood,” he adds quietly, then turns to the oven and opens the door. “Looks like the pork chops are done.”

  Smooth subject change. I guess he doesn’t want to talk about it. Well, I understand that all too well. Maybe he doesn’t get along with his parents. It’s clearly a touchy subject for him.

  I let the topic go. “Well, dinner smells amazing. I can’t wait to taste it.”

  Levi prepares our plates, and we eat. Though it’s tense for the first couple of minutes, I tell him all about an awkward customer who came in yesterday thinking we sold bicycles, and that gets us both laughing. The fine lines around his eyes fade away, and he’s back to giving me a genuine smile.

  Our conversation runs all over the place, from movies to books to politics. Levi is quite well educated on many topics, and it’s fun picking his brain apart and learning more about his thoughts and beliefs. He didn’t go to college, but he keeps up to date on current events and reads widely.