By the end of the morning, we’ve just about cleared the backlog of work that piled up when they were keeping vigil while Liz was in the hospital, or distracted when he woke up and dismissed them. I’m glad I volunteered to come in and help. I’ve really enjoyed myself and it’s been good spending time with Mace.
Particularly as there are signs Mace isn’t immune to me.
Out of the corner of my eye, there have been a couple of times when I’ve noticed Mace pausing whatever he was doing to stare at my ass as I leaned over an engine. It’s weird, but I don’t feel freaked out. Maybe it’s because Cas is here and Mace can’t act inappropriately, or maybe it’s down to Mace himself. Something inside made me feel powerful that I could have such an effect on him.
My old boyfriend Rodger would be way down the scale, maybe a two or three, but as I’d no illusions I’d be more than that myself, I was happy to think we suited each other. Mace, now, he’s more than a ten. He’s off the top end of the scale. His short hair and beard frame a nicely shaped head, his features aren’t delicate or pretty, rugged I suppose, but in my eyes so damn handsome. His arms are muscular, his t-shirt clings to well defined pecs, and his arms are a canvass of colourful tattoos.
That such a man, who women would probably die to get him just to glance their way, is staring at my ass, and, if I’m not mistaken, has to adjust himself after, is astonishing. Not that he let me get more than a glimpse of that, he’d turned fast and discreetly, his face reddening as though embarrassed. It probably matched the shade of my own cheeks.
I should be scared.
It’s Mace. He’d never hurt me.
As I’m trying to work out if I’m the stupidest woman in the world not to be running a mile at the thought Mace might be attracted to me, and acknowledging I may not be totally immune to him, a phone rings interrupting my thoughts.
It’s Cas’s. He answers.
“Yeah, Mom… Okay… Sure, no problem.”
“You don’t need me anymore, do you Mace?” he asks as he replaces his phone in his pocket. “Mom’s on her way back to the compound, and said she’s going to swing by and pick me up.”
“No, that’s fine. We’re about done anyway, aren’t we, Shay?”
I love how he shortens my name. He’s the only one who does. I nod to show my agreement. Cas has been a great help. Apart from Mace teaching him some of the basics, he’s been sweeping and tidying up. Liz should be proud of his son, he needs someone to keep him the right side of the line is all. If he’s pointed in the right direction, I reckon he’ll turn out okay.
Mace leans against the workbench and folds his arms, his eyes on Cas. “Are you getting on any better with your Dad?”
Instead of brushing him off, Cas impresses me, as he clearly ponders how to answer his question. His brow furrows, and his lips press together, then he gives a little shrug. “I’d hated that he’d walked out and left when I was a little kid. I couldn’t understand. When Mom had told us he’d forgotten us, I didn’t believe it. How do you forget your damn son? Then I met him and realised it was true.”
“It must have been so hard.” I take no shame eavesdropping on the conversation, interested to hear the situation from Cas’s side.
“You, Mace. You and the rest of my uncles,” he gives Mace a quick grin, “well, I may not have had a dad, but I had you. Then Dad came back, but again, he’s a changed man, and wants to take me away from the club and my newfound family. He doesn’t know what to do with a grown-up kid, and he still treats me as though I’m a baby.”
“It must be difficult for him too,” I observe. “He’s probably trying too hard and overcompensating, getting it wrong when he thinks he’s doing it right. Any dad wants to have a hand in bringing up their kid, but with you, it’s been left too late. You need guidance, not a heavy hand. It’s a bit like Mace, or one of the others, meeting a woman he likes, and she comes along with a teenage son. It’s a big commitment, in many ways more challenging than taking on a baby.”
Mace gives me a look I can’t interpret, but my attention is quickly back on Cas again.
He sounds glum. “I’m worried we’ll just butt heads all the time.”
I chuckle. Sounds like a normal boy of fourteen to me. “Isn’t that always the way at your age, Cas? See, I used to work with a man who had a teenage kid. He used to tell me the usual words out of his son’s mouth were ‘I hate you, Dad’.”
“She’s right,” Mace tells Cas. “You’re still a kid, but you’re growing into a man. At your age, everyone bucks the rules: screen time when playing games, homework, curfews. Grownups still set the rules for reasons you can’t understand.”
Cas replies sagely, “I’ve found him at the wrong time, haven’t I? If I was younger, I’d want to do things with my dad, now I’d rather spend time with my friends.”
“You’ll find things to do with Liz that you both enjoy,” Mace predicts.
I hope, in time, they’ll find a common interest. Bikes for a start. That’s if, of course, Liz stays with the club.
“Cas? You here?”
“Hi Vanna,” Mace calls loudly. “We’re out back.”
She appears. “Hi Mace. Shayla. Is it okay if I take him now?”
“Yeah. He’s been a great help. See you later, Cas.” Mace winks at him, then we both watch as they leave.
“You’re good with him,” I tell him honestly as the sound of the car fades into the distance. “You got any kids of your own?”
“Fuck no,” he says fast. “I’ve always made fuckin’ sure of that.” He looks around. “Hey, we’re about done here now. Want to go get some lunch? Be a good time to see if you like riding on my bike.”
I glance down at the latex gloves I wear to protect my fingers from the oil and grime. “I don’t know,” I say, hesitantly, my voice quieter and less certain now Cas has gone.
“Come on,” he encourages me gently. “I’ll keep you safe, Shay. You might find you love it. We won’t go too far as it’s your first time.”
It’s that use of my shortened name again, sounding almost like a caress from his lips. Heaven help me, but it just does something to me. Suddenly I grin and meet his eyes, feeling a mischief I haven’t felt in so long as I tease him. “Not all the way, then?”
He barks a strangled laugh, showing how much my bravado has shocked him.
Is this where he tells me I’ve read him wrong? That he’s not interested in me that way?
I’m holding my breath, not actually knowing whether I want him to slap me back down or encourage me.
I’m not ready.
I’ll never be.
Then, with a cocky slant to his head as if knowing he’s trying his luck he suggests, “Maybe first base?”
First base.
If he’d indicated more, I’d have fled screaming. But those words suggesting he knows anything would need to start slow make me give consideration to starting this journey. With him. Only with him. A kiss.
Lips meeting lips. Maybe arms trapping me. What if I run screaming?
Mace is the type of man I’d have zeroed right in on if I’d met him before.