JAX: MC Biker Romance (New Adult Contemporary Bad Boy Romance) (32 page)

It was a woman. Her knees had moved. She was lying in the back seat of her vehicle and she was wearing what appeared to be blue scrubs…

A doctor? A nurse?

He threw his car into park and hopped out, leaving his ignition and lights on. Why was a woman wearing scrubs sleeping in the back seat of a car right next to his driveway?

He balled his fists as he approached the vehicle and pecked on the window of the car with his knuckles. “Hey, Lady!” he yelled out, hoping that she could hear him, and that she was alright.

She jumped up abruptly and stared at him with wide eyes. As quickly as she had hopped up into a sitting position, he figured she was fine, but he still wanted to know more.

“What’s your story?” he yelled again, through the closed window. “Why are you outside my house?”

She looked terrified for a second. “That’s your house?” she asked, almost unsure of him. He nodded and took a couple of steps away from her car.

“And my car…” He pointed toward the Lexus parked crookedly in front of her.

“Open your garage door!” she yelled out, pulling her knees to her chest.

“What?” he asked, confused. “No!”

He was standoffish at first, but went back to his earlier instinct just by seeing her soft resting expression from earlier turn into nothing but absolute fear. This woman wasn’t dangerous. That was the only reason he had approached the car in the first place. “Are you hurt at all?” he yelled out before making a step toward his car. She shook her head, but did nothing else.

She just remained vaulted, her knees to her chest.

He could only assume that she was scared of him. Why, he wasn’t sure, but he assumed she wanted to make sure that it really was his house and that he wasn’t just some weirdo with a rented Lexus coming to prey on women in fancy neighborhoods. It sounded ludicrous to him when he went through the thought-process in his head, but he shook it off. Women didn’t make sense to him in general. Why would some crazy chick in the back of a Ford Focus be any different?

He used his automatic garage door opener clipped to his visor to open his garage and he could see, even through the darkness, the woman visibly relaxed. Then, he heard the car door open.

“Well, Lady, now that the paranoia is over, would you like to tell me what the hell is going on?” he asked as she took another step toward him.

She nodded and spieled the whole story. Something about a douche of a boyfriend kicking her out because she didn’t like to party and was always working and studying. He sounded like an asshole to Chris, but then again, Chris acknowledged passion, goals, and determination over everything.

Moreover, in all honesty, he admired her for reaching for her dreams.

“Would you like to come in?” he asked, reaching for his car door. He could tell by the moment of silence that followed that she still wasn’t sure, but in all reality, he didn’t care if she wanted to come in or not. “Suit yourself either way. I’m going in.” He hopped into his car and drove the rest of the way to the garage, her jogging, hot on his trail.

“So, you have a pretty big family, I guess, huh?” she mused, her mouth agape, looking up at the tall ceilings as they entered the house from the garage.

“No,” he replied simply, showing her where the nearest guest bathroom was.

“Trying to win a competition for having the biggest house in the neighborhood?” she asked, lamely trying to joke.

He sighed. “No.”

“Lots of maids and butlers then?”

“No.” His words were so simple and to the point that she almost wondered if he knew any words other than “no”, but when she realized that she had actually heard him speak before, she understood what it was that he was saying. He wasn’t interested in a long drawn-out conversation about him. They weren’t going to be girlfriends and stay up all night chatting; and she understood him... Loud and clear.

She couldn’t help but wonder though why he even let her inside. She could have been a murderer or a thief pretending to be stranded by her boyfriend of three years. For all he knew, she could have been completely bad news.

*****

It was late at night, and she couldn’t believe that she was actually in such a huge, luxurious house, and taking a tour, nonetheless. She wasn’t sure what the point of it all was, but at least, she got out of her car for a minute. She could have gone to the mall and walk around, maybe have a nap on their chairs, but it was closed by the time she got out of work.

“So, there are plenty of rooms if you need a place to stay… you can grab one of them” he said, catching her off guard as he continued his tour of the first floor. Honestly, he wasn’t sure what made him feel bad for her. He didn’t exactly get to his position in life by giving a shit about other people. In fact, most people would call him self-centered, and he, himself, knew that he probably was. He was never a very nice guy. He couldn’t remember ever just being out-of-the-way nice, but there was something about her that made him feel charitable, at the very least.

She stopped dead in her tracks, as he kept walking forward, expecting her to follow closely behind him. “I couldn’t do that,” she said that, and he recognized by her voice that she was further than he had expected her to be.

“And why not?” He took a few steps closer to her, finding himself staring into the irises of her eyes.

“Well, to start with, I would be imposing on a strangers hou–” she began, but he halted her words with his hand.

“Imposing on my small house?” He laughed. “You could stay here and I wouldn’t even know you were here if you didn’t want me to.”

“How would I pay you?” she asked, her gaze falling to the floor. She had no money, and she honestly didn’t know the man from Adam. How was she sure that he wasn’t going to try and take advantage of her or something?

He laughed. “You don’t have to pay me. I have enough money. If you really feel generous and like you need to do something, you can do some cleaning up and some dishes. I hate dishes.”

“Why don’t you have housekeepers if you hate dishes so much?”

“I never wanted to be one of those ‘rich guys’ that couldn’t do anything for himself.”

He had seemed a little snobbish in demeanor, so she wasn’t sure exactly how to take him. She couldn’t really read him. Not yet anyway, but when he lead her to a bar and media room, hidden away at the end of the large corridor just off of the living room, that started to change. She wasn’t really surprised by the fact that he had one, so she wasn’t sure why – when she came through the door – her mouth was agape, considering how huge the house was and how rich he clearly was. It was just different. She was far from used to this sort of lifestyle.

She couldn’t believe it, but after barely any persuasion, she had a glass of wine in her hand. It was probably the first time she’d had a drink in months. She almost laughed at the irony, and she would have, had she not still been a little struck by the house.

“What’s wrong?” His head cocked to the side, looking at her, as if he somehow read her mind. He held a small glass of bourbon and gently twirled it in his palm.

“I was just thinking…” she trailed. “I feel just as weird and out-of-place at your home as I do one of those fancy-pants four-star hotels…”

“Four-star?” he laughed, but then stopped abruptly when he realized she wasn’t joking.

“Oh, sorry, you go to five-star joints,” she scoffed. “Sorry that my peasantry just showed.”

He smirked. “You know, I’m not actually making fun of you. I’m actually sort of intrigued.” He really was, but she couldn’t help but think that it was the sort of intrigued you got for something unpleasant; like the way a placenta tasted. “But anyway,” he sighed, changing the subject. “Tell me more about your issue with your boyfriend.” He took another sip of his bourbon.

She took a deep breath, not really sure what else to say about it. Part of her didn’t want to say it out loud anymore because she didn’t even want to believe it was her reality. The other part was just so damned pissed and upset about it that she was afraid she’d either start crying or go into a tirade. Either way, it probably wasn’t super safe for the rich gentleman sitting in front of her.

“Come on…” he urged. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

His smirk could stop the earth from spinning
, she thought. The bad part though was the fact that he knew that it could. She could tell just by looking that he was the kind of man that knew exactly what his charm could get him. He had probably used it time and time again. She glanced around the room again, taking in the surroundings. It was very clear that he had to have used his charms at some point.

“I just thought that we had a future together,” she sighed, still almost in disbelief. He nodded almost genuinely. “I just can’t believe he was so mean that he would throw me out like that without letting me come up with some sort of plan first.” She didn’t bother holding back the tears this time though. Instead, she let them go. She was sick of the strength it took to hold them in.

“So, please, you said you would show me yours,” she said in between crying breaths. “Make me feel a little better and tell me your story.”

“Well, I wish I had something equally as shitty to tell, but in truth, I’m probably the reason most of my relationships fail.”

“Cheater?” she asked, almost a little more nonchalantly for either of their comfort.

He laughed. “I wish. Sometimes that would be easier; to blame my penis.” He took a deep breath and one last large gulp of his bourbon before slamming it down on the bar. “In reality, out of all of my serious relationships – there have only been a couple. By the way – they end pretty much for the same reason. My work. My goals. Some sort of future plan that I have for myself.”

“You just didn’t share the same goals?” she asked, her brows twisting in curiosity.

“Yes and no,” he sighed, his sobriety faltering. “My goal written on paper is the American Dream. Financial stability, a family, a house, but I already have two of those things. I used to tell myself that all I wanted was that American Dream, but it just seems like it’s never enough money, so I keep pushing everything off in order to earn more, be more comfortable, be more satisfied.”

He laughed deep in his throat. “Wow, I can’t believe I’m actually sharing.” She looked at him, intrigued by him now. “Barkeep!” he yelled, craning his neck, glancing back and forth. Over and over, she looked around too without even thinking.

“Damn…” he muttered, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. “I knew I shouldn’t have fired that guy!” She could tell that he was joking now. There was never a bartender, well, that she knew of. He really might have fired one once upon a time, but to hear him tell it, he didn’t have any staff at the mansion.

“You really have no help here?” she asked, puzzled by the cleanliness of everything. How could one man clean this place without any help at all?

He smirked, “I have a housekeeper come once a week, but I don’t usually use any of the rooms except for my office, bedroom suite, and this room.”

“I guess you have to leave room for all the strangers you let into your house,” she joked.

He smiled. “I don’t normally open my doors to strangers, Michelle.”

She felt her breath catch in her throat at the sentiment, as well as the way her name sounded coming off of his lips. She couldn’t deny the fact that the man was gorgeous. Tall, dark, and handsome didn’t even begin to describe it.

His brown hair was slicked back, face clean shaven and pristine, and his suit was clearly expensive. Everything about him screamed money, but it also screamed attractive. The way his clearly tailored suit clung to his muscular body was enough to send chills up her spine, but she was too heartbroken by Stanley to even begin to entertain the thoughts.

Besides, she didn’t even know him; not really… no matter how oddly-comfortable she felt with him. She shook her head and cleared her throat. She still hadn’t asked him why he let her in in the first place. “So, why me?”

He laughed and swung his arm over the bar before pulling out a small bottle of bourbon. It wasn’t the one he had poured for himself earlier. It was something different. This bottle looked even fancier than the last, and there was a lot less of it.

“Had to get you out of my driveway. It would look terrible to let a homeless girl just sleep out there,” he said, still joking. At least, she hoped he was still joking.

He glanced at her and poured himself a drink. “Want a top off on that wine?” he asked, almost in passing, but she shook her head. One was probably her limit with a strange man, and in a strange house. “Anyway, I could tell you weren’t a threat. There was no reason to call the police, and I actually believe your story. I’m pretty good at reading people.”

*****

Scrubbing the countertops after loading the fifth or sixth round of dishes into the dishwasher, Michelle sighed. How the hell could a man dirty this many dishes and have such dirty counter tops? There were only two of them in the whole house and she still hadn’t felt comfortable enough to use his kitchen for anything.

She didn’t know why. She’d been the one cleaning it for the couple weeks she’d been there, but still, something didn’t seem right about it.… using his fancy plates, his fancy glasses, and eating his fancy cheese and crackers – and everything else in his kitchen for that matter.