Daisy pursed her lips like she was actually debating the answer.
Cassie rolled her eyes and tugged again, finally getting the girl to move.
As they turned toward their SUV parked ahead of Shade’s bike, Chelle asked, “Why are you here?”
“Escortin’ them since her ol’ man’s busy.” He said that as if it wasn’t out of the ordinary.
“Why would she need an escort?” She wondered if that was typical in an MC. She needed to do more research when she got a chance.
When he didn’t answer, she wondered what she was missing in that scenario.
Manning Grove was a safe family-oriented town. The police department was good. For the most part, the town’s folk were friendly. Needing an escort made no sense. Even if Cassie and Daisy needed one, no matter the reason, why wouldn’t they just ride in the same vehicle?
He muttered, “Gotta go.”
Fine. He didn’t want to answer and, truthfully, it wasn’t any of her business, anyway.
She stepped back onto the curb. “See you Tuesday... Shade.” She’d ask him about that nickname then.
If he was even willing to answer.
Shawn’s head twisted toward Cassie, who was rounding the back of her SUV after strapping her daughter into the back seat. The tall, curvy blonde stopped dead and glanced over her shoulder to mouth to Shawn, “Tuesday?”
His jaw shifted sharply and he frowned.
With a sly smile, Cassie jumped into the driver’s seat of her vehicle and started the engine.
“Gotta go,” Shawn grumbled again and hit the starter on his motorcycle. When it rumbled to life, the loud exhaust vibrated through her center.
She wondered what it would feel like to ride a powerful motorcycle like his, even if she was only the passenger.
“Tuesday,” was the last thing he said as he used his boot to shift the bike into gear, gave it some gas and then followed Cassie.
She’d have to ask him about that, too.
Because asking questions gives you answers to most of life’s mysteries.
She couldn’t deny she loved mysteries.
Shawn, aka Shade, was certainly one.
Shade straddled his quiet sled and stared at the house. Lights were on inside and, even though the night hadn’t completely swallowed up the daylight yet, a porch light shone bright.
The house appeared welcoming. A great home, a great neighborhood, a great town for a woman raising two daughters.
He wondered if Chelle was alone inside waiting for him, or if her girls were home. If they weren’t, he’d have a hard time concentrating on his first “lesson.”
After fucking her against the shed Sunday night, he’d had a hard time concentrating on anything. He’d spent too much time remembering how her hot, wet pussy responded to him being inside her. It had fucking pulsed, even gripped him like a fist.
He’d used his own fist last night. Twice. But it wasn’t the same. No substitute existed for a warm, willing woman who made him hard as fuck.
Chelle did that.
Even thinking about her now, knowing they’d be spending time together and sitting close, woke up his dick.
But he wasn’t here for that tonight. He was here for their deal. Their barter. Her attempt to teach him to read in exchange for his help with the painting. He was pretty fucking sure that deal would be quickly broken when she discovered he was impossible to teach.
After swinging a leg over his Night Train, he shrugged out of his cut. She knew now what and who he was, what and who he belonged to, but that didn’t mean her girls did.
He also wasn’t sure how she felt about it all.
He wouldn’t mention it as long as she didn’t. If it was an issue, he had no doubt, she’d bring it up.
Not that it would change anything.
His club was his family and that was fucking that. No woman would change that.
Jesus fuck, he was only here to learn to read. That was it.
He removed his black skullcap and face covering, and tucked them in the saddlebag next to his folded cut.
His stomach churned as he turned and stared at the house again. He scratched the back of his neck, then clamped a hand around it, twisting it back and forth.
He was only putting off the inevitable.
Her finding out how fucking stupid he was. How unteachable.
He pressed his lips together as the front door opened and she stepped outside onto the porch, calling out, “Are you just going to stand there? Or are you coming inside?”
He wanted to come inside Chelle. He wanted to mark her as his, like when Justice pissed on a bush to mark his territory.
The intense need to do just that had been eating at him.
While that thought was fucking crazy, it was too damn true.
He shook himself mentally before he sported a full-blown hard-on and strode from where his sled was parked along the side of her paved driveway, down her little flower-lined walkway and up the steps.
She didn’t step back, she stayed right where she stood, only her face tipping up as he closed in. He didn’t stop until he was only inches from her. Close enough to feel her breath softly escape her parted lips, see her pupils dilate and her nipples pucker under the thin, V-neck, long-sleeved tee she wore.
No buttons. No easy access.
But this white, almost transparent, shirt clung to her curves, emphasizing her tits and slightly narrower waist. She wasn’t skinny, not even close.
Fuck no. That was one thing that turned him off to some of the sweet butts. A couple of them didn’t have much substance, and he wasn’t talking brain power. Because some of them lacked a bit of that, too.
He liked a woman with enough flesh to dig his fingers into. He wanted a woman whose body was as far from a man as it could get. Not hard, but soft.
He’d had sex with plenty of men and not by choice. Now he had a choice, he wanted generous tits, ass and pussy that made him forget his real name.
Chelle was all of that.
Even more.
She was the whole fucking package. Looks, personality and brains, too.
Even better, her presence settled him. He didn’t know how, didn’t know why.
It just did.
He used the back of his fingers to brush a few stands of her strawberry-blonde hair away from her eyes. “Where are your glasses?”
Her throat convulsed as she swallowed. When she licked her lips, he followed that movement, too. “I only wear contacts while I’m working. I haven’t had a chance to remove them yet.”
They stared at each other a few more moments and a flush covered her chest. He wondered if she was remembering what happened behind the shed, too.
She cleared her throat, but her words still came out huskily. “Come inside.”
Yeah, he’d like to. He leaned forward until his mouth was to her ear. “Will you let me?”
He pulled back and saw the color tinging her chest had worked its way up into her cheeks. He didn’t know many women who blushed as easily as Chelle.
It surprised him due to her age and lack of innocence. Chelle was no young virgin. She was a woman who knew what she wanted and hadn’t hesitated to take it behind the shed.
With a hand curled around her hip—tonight she wore jeans—he turned her to escort her inside.
He reluctantly let her go to shut and lock the door behind them and then followed her to the back of the house and into her kitchen. The light fixture above the table in the eat-in kitchen was lit and on the table sat a couple of legal-sized pads of yellow paper, an open laptop, as well as pencils and some books.