Less time in the car, more time at home or at the diner with me or at the clubhouse with her dad.
No uniform to have to press every night, fewer fights, no more bruises or calls from the teacher, no more worrying about her being expelled and that being on her permanent record…
I should have put my foot down sooner, but I wanted the best for my kid.
Having St. Angela’s Academy for Girls on her resume would have looked damn more impressive than the local public school, but fuck, I’d take it for a happier daughter.
When she twisted around to wave at me, I smiled at her and waved back, only reversing when she’d gone inside. As I waited in line to get out of the parking lot, I checked my cell and grinned at a meme Link had sent me before I shot MC a message, asking her if it was okay to come around for coffee.
As the line gave way and I pulled out onto the road, I let loose a contented sigh. It was her tenth day here, and I was loving the new routine.
In the back of my mind, I knew I had less than two weeks left to make a decision. Enrollment time was approaching at the local satellite college in North Canton, and on top of that, Storm really should be moving back into the clubhouse…
Was I letting down womankind by admitting that I liked having him around the house?
He did the laundry and he cooked. I never had to worry about shit breaking down because he fixed it, and he was always there for Cyan if I had a late night at the diner, and he was doing all that while, in his spare time, redecorating the family room so that it was more to my taste than the older style.
It was like having a live-in handyman without having to put out.
Okay, that sounded bad.
Like I was using him…
I bit my bottom lip at the thought, but appeased my guilty conscience by accepting that Storm wasn’t the kind of guy who did stuff unless he wanted to. Which meant everything he was doing was his choice. His decision.
I turned up the radio at the thought, smirking when Nu Breed’s “Welcome To My House” blared out loud. This always reminded me of Storm, and maybe a few months back, I’d have switched it over, but now, I sang along with the moody lyrics as I drove away from the town border with West Lafayette, where the school was located, and back into Coshocton’s center.
It was really green around here, a lot greener than West Orange. Lots of tilled fields with soggy-looking crops, plenty of trees all interspersed with houses that peered onto the road. It made me appreciate that our place was far out, with a lot more privacy.
As the meager winter sun warmed my face, I accepted the call when it came, tapping a finger on my dash while I drove past a river that lined the road. Its banks were looking a little full, and I wouldn’t have been surprised if, with the next rainfall, it flooded.
With Storm’s name on the dash, I also turned down the volume and asked, "Everything okay?"
"That Nu Breed?"
I laughed. "Yeah. I love this song."
"You know it’s my favorite." He chuckled, and that soft, amused, husky sound did things to me that were probably illegal in a state where abstinence was taught to kids… Hell, I knew in some states, anal sex was illegal. Talk about taking the fun out of stuff.
As his chuckle died, his husky voice still made me tingle in all the best places. "It came on and made me smile."
He paused a second. "Really?"
"Really." Before he could read too much into it, I asked, "You need something? Or just checking in on Cyan?"
"Nah, I don’t need to ask. She’s happier there. Plus, she gets to sleep more. I know that’s making me less grouchy," he said wryly.
"Me too," I admitted. "Shit, I feel so bad for admitting it, but I love not having to drive that far."
"You’re not alone." He laughed again, this time it wasn’t as husky, a lot lighter, and it still hit me in all the wrong places.
I knew arousal wasn’t something you could switch off, and Storm had always tripped my buttons. But having him wander around the house, dusty and fusty, a little bit of paint on his cheek, or tools in his hands? Those mental images were like my teenage fantasies come to life.
Because I wanted to hear that laugh again, instead of teasing him some more which would lead to more of that dangerous laughter, I asked, "Everything okay?"
"Can you come to the clubhouse?"
I pulled a face, glad he couldn’t see my expression. "Why?"
"I need your help with something."
"With what?"
"Couple things."
"Like what?" I repeated.
He heaved a sigh. "Nothing bad. Just need your advice on some club matters."
I nearly braked at his words, but instead of causing a frickin’ accident, sputtered out, "You want my advice? What do I know about club matters?"
He grunted. "Yeah. It’s not as crazy as it might sound."
"It isn’t? You never asked before."
"That was different. I was only VP."
I blinked. "That makes a difference?"
"I was the only guy on the council with a wife and kid, babe. What do you think? That they’d have loved it if you came in and dusted?"
"They accepted Giulia."
"Do you really not see the difference between Giulia and you?"
"What’s that supposed to mean?" I demanded, taking affront at his words.
"There’s no need to feel like I’m insulting you, honey. I’m not. It’s actually a compliment. Giulia wears her street smarts on her sleeve. You… don’t."
"I have street smarts," I complained.
"Would you headbutt someone who was bullying you?"
I winced. "No." My eyes narrowed. "I’d hurt London, though. You never did tell me what happened to him."
"Mostly because it’d give you nightmares."
Scoffing, I told him, "I doubt it. I think he could have been boiled in oil, tarred and feathered, and I still don’t think it would be enough for what he put our baby through."
"I agree," he said gruffly, but in his voice, there was something deeper. Darker.
It made me lick my lips and, even though it was freezing outside, less than thirty degrees, I seriously needed the bitter chill to shock me out of the churning, tumbling waves of desire that lapped at me as a result of that tone.
I heard the violence within it.
I heard the fury.
I heard the desire to cause pain to the man who’d thought he could hurt our child.
And I loved it.
Hands tightening around the steering wheel, I rasped, "One day, I want you to tell me what happened."
Then he sealed the deal.
He growled under his breath.
Lord.
That noise.
It went straight through my veins like a shot of vodka.
"You should ask Amara. She’ll tell you, I’m sure. Word for word."
The thought had me raising my chin even as that growl had everything inside me melting. "You wouldn’t mind?"
"What you speak about with your girlfriends is your business," was his rumbly retort. "Just try to do it on a secure line only."
I pshawed a little at that because, duh. Even I knew that much.
"I wish you’d served him justice, but I’m glad she did too. It’s complicated because she probably deserved to kill him more than we did—"