BITTER SWEET CRAVINGS (The Kingsmen MC Book 6) (3 page)

I resolve to hold my ground, fixing myself in place, preparing for the moment.

“And what would you do if I said yes?” he teases as his finger lifts to play with the low neckline of my t-shirt, tracing the thin covering to the cleavage.

The sporty cologne he wears is intoxicating, filling my lungs and more than a little responsible for filling the lining of my panties. I feel my lashes flutter and watch through them as his lips lower.

“What exactly would you do if I told you to strip and then carried your naked body off to the shower where I showed you just how dirty I am before I wash my come off you?”

I feel my eyes roll back, my knees give way.

“Whoa there, cupcake!” He slides his arms under my shoulders to catch. “That’s what I thought you’d do. And
that’s
… why we’re not going to do any of it.”

I lift my head lazily, still feeling the aftereffects of his words, but slowly regaining focus.

“You’re here, doing the right thing to help your sister, but, you’re not part of this life, Dana. You’re a
good
girl. Good girls don’t do well around guys like me. It gets them killed.”

And that sobers me up real quick.

CHAPTER THREE

CHARLIE

“What do you
mean
you threw them away?” I shout in a whisper at Dana, even though we’re behind closed doors.

“You were passed out for over ten hours, Charlie! Do
not
try to tell me that was from two little pills. Now, I know you’re going through some shit, so I’m cutting you some slack. But… you don’t need pills. You need to pick your big girl panties up, get your ass in the shower, and go back to work. Enough of this sulking.”

I can’t believe she threw them all out! Does she know how hard it was for me to get that prescription? And how even harder it will be to get another? Doctor’s don’t really fall too easily for the whole ‘I threw my pain pills away by accident’ shtick.

“Dana, you had no right to go through my things. I wasn’t going to take them anyway. It was just in case,” I tell her.

She nods, smugly. “If you weren’t going to take them, then it’s no big deal. I’ll by you some Tylenol in case you need it. But, we really don’t have time to argue about this. You’re going to be late for your first day back to work.”

Oh my God! She is so… so…

“I’ll pack you a lunch while you finish getting dressed.” She leaves me before I have any chance of answering.

She’s right about one thing. I have no time to argue with her right now. My first shift back at work is tonight and I’m not risking getting written up for being late. I’ve already been spoken to about the disruptions in the surgical waiting room from when Clink went ballistic. Anymore marks on my record and I could be on thin ice.

I quickly finish drying my hair and dressing in my uniform, still fidgeting with my lab coat as I join my sister in the kitchen.

“I don’t need a big meal, Dana. I usually just survive on coffee and a sandwich when I work an overnight.”

She puts the finishing touches on a salad and snaps the lid tight, handing it off to me.

“Have a good day at work, dear,” she jokes.

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, I’ll try.”

T.J.’s sitting on his bike, propping it up with a leg on either side, playing on his phone in the driveway. He speaks up without looking at me as I fumble with my car keys.

“You good to drive?” he asks aloud.

Great. Another person to whom I have to explain my life.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” I snap back.

His eyes peek up, assessing me. I shift, putting my hand on my hip.

“You got something to say, T.J.?” I’m harsh.

He purses his lips, shoves his phone in his pocket. “Sure do, but nothing I’d say to the Prez’s daughter.”

He starts his engine, drowning me out.

“Good!” I shout.

He revs the throttle and holds his hand up to his ear like a cocky asshole, insinuating that he can’t hear me.

Stupid biker
.

I flip him off and continue to load my things into the car, peeling back out of the drive dangerously fast, but as soon as I check in my rearview mirror I see him, tailing me… following me on the orders of the club.

No matter where I go, what I do, I can’t seem to get away from people watching over me.

It’s getting old. Real fucking fast, too.

~*~

At least he has the decency not to follow me into work.

I wonder if it’s in the biker handbook to give the person you’re tailing the courtesy not to follow them into their place of employment, or if T.J. just happened to throw that little ditty in on his own.

A small bouquet of flowers was left at my seat in the cardio nurses’ station, with a little Welcome Back card from my co-workers. I make the rounds to thank as many of them as I can, but the halls are sparsely filled this time of night.

I know some of the other nurses don’t particularly like the overnight shift, but it’s a blessing to me right now. The floors are quiet with no nosy people around poking in my business. No people to make fake conversation. Only a few of the other nurses are close enough with me to have known about my relationship with Clink, and I’m glad none of them are around for me to have to explain everything.

Tomorrow morning when I get off my shift, I’ll be able to sleep away most of the day and avoid everyone that way, too. It’s a win-win situation and I’m so glad for it at a time like this.

A stack of charts takes up most of the early part of my shift, notating the prescription changes and procedural entries. Nothing like a little monotonous, mindless work to get your mind off your troubles.

“Good to have you back, Charlie.”

I lift my tired eyes up to the handsome baby blue scrub-clad doc with the sky blue eyes and short manicured chest hairs peeking from the deep v-neck top.

“Hey, Doctor Walker--”

“Harris,” he corrects me. “Please, call me Harris.”

He’s mentioned this a few times over the last few months, starting with the time we met in the ER on one of my first shifts. It was also the first time he asked me out.

I blush, feeling embarrassed. “Harris,” I give in.

There’s an unspoken protocol in the hospital. One that could lead to endless whispers and cattiness if broken. Act too chummy with a doc and it’ll almost certainly lead to rumors of you fucking him.

God help you if you actually
are
fucking one… the nurses treat you like a mistress after their own husband. Doesn’t stop most of these ladies, though, as some of these docs make it a personal mission to bag as many nurses as possible. Kind of like collecting notches on their stethoscope.

“How are you feeling? I was concerned when I heard you were still in pain.”

I look around to make sure no one is witness to our friendly exchange that could most definitely start some gossip.

“Pain?” I ask.

He folds his arms along the high counter and leans forward. “I had lunch with Dr. Jacobs yesterday and he mentioned that he called in a script for you. I hope you don’t mind, I asked him how you were doing.”

I set my pen down on the unfinished charts, silently thankful for the distraction.

“I-I’m fine, really. I would never take anything that could impair my thinking while working,” I’m quick to add.

Dr. Walker places his hand on top of mine. “Relax, Charlie. That’s not where I’m coming from. I really am just concerned about you.”

My eyes slowly lower to take in the sight of his large, manicured hand over mine. I’m too nervous to take back my own hand.

“Uh, thanks, Harris. It – it hit me a little harder than I though it would, but I’m fully recovered now. Just tired, is all, adjusting to the new schedule.” I try to sense if he’s being honest about his innocent intentions.

“Good to hear. Please, let me know if you need anything, anything at all. I’d like you to think of me as a friend… not just another doc around here.”

His perfectly symmetrical smile is worthy of a magazine cover, with his classic blue-blood looks.

“Thanks, Harris.” I blink to break the uncomfortable look between us. “I’ll try to remember that.”

He taps my hand. “Please do.”

We’re interrupted by the beeping of his pager, and my hand is finally freed as he holds the small black device up.

He looks disappointed. “Gotta run, Charlie. ER’s getting full.” He places the  archaic yet medically necessary means of communication back on his belt clip. “See you later?”

I nod, smiling tightly, not willing to commit myself to actually seeing him later.

He winks at me, his gorgeously long lashes flirting their farewell. Once he’s gone, and I’m left alone with the unfinished work, I can’t help but appreciate the attentions of someone who isn’t covered in tattoos and leather.

~*~

CLINK

“Where you goin’, daddy?”

His plump cheeks are full, the little crumbs of his sandwich escape between his words.

“I’m goin’ to work, champ. You get to visit with granny for a little while and then you two are going to come home where I’ll be waitin’ for ya,” I explain as I toss the small pile of clothes into my duffel bag.

“I wanna go, too!” He pouts, his chubby little legs kicking at the air under his seat at the table.

I zip up the bag and toss it aside, landing with a soft thud on the ground closer to the front door. Bending down, I take his sticky little fingers in my hand.

“Bud, we talked about this. I need you to help me. Gran is up here all by herself. She gets lonely. Your visit makes her so happy! I need you to stay here and keep her company,” I can see I need to pad this a little bit.

“I need you to
protect
her, to watch things around here for me. Be the man of the house.” I watch as he absorbs my words.

His tiny face scrunches in contemplation, and his eyes lift hopefully. “Protect her?”

I smile, nodding. “Yup.”

He nods slowly, “I’ll stay here, daddy.”

I lean forward and kiss his forehead, mussing up his hair as he mulls over his new role.

Satisfied that my job is done, I pick Brendan up, swinging him round to my back where he holds on tight, squealing with excitement. I carefully balance him as I reach down to pick up the duffel and carry the two heavy objects out to where ma’s waiting next to dad’s old bike in the drive.

“Got a special delivery for ya,” I announce as I hand my son off to her.

He holds his arms wide for her to catch “Granny. I’m the man of the house. Daddy says.”

She laughs at his self-imposed title and nods to me, laughing. “
Thanks
, Bri.”

Tying the old army duffel of my pop’s to the back of his bike, I’m careful to secure the straps tight.

“I’ll call you guys tonight when I get to a motel.” I give each of the family members a kiss on the cheek and straddle the bike, kicking the start and bringing it to life.

The loud rumble roars and revs under me, igniting the excitement that only this bike is capable of. Taking off down the drive, I look back in the rearview and see Brendan waving wildly as mom hangs on tight.

~*~

I hand the twenty-dollar bill to the gas attendant.

“How’s the coffee in there?” I nod over to little luncheonette attached to the service station.

The young kid counts out my change from the pile of singles in his pocket. “It’s decent. The pie’s real good, though.”

I take back the seven or so dollars and crumple it in my pocket. Good pie and decent coffee… just what I could use after five hours of riding.

“Thanks, kid.”

My bike is left parked in front of the old-fashioned lunch spot. Almost every head in the place turns as I enter, worn from the road. This isn’t exactly home turf but the patches on my back have enough of a reputation to warrant the whispers.

The old, worn, vinyl stools are mostly abandoned, so I take one near the far end of the long counter.

“What can I getcha’?” The waitress is cute, in a small-town kind of way.

“Coffee. Black. And pie… I hear the pie’s good.” I place my phone down next to me on the table surface as I settle in.

The coffee is poured, sloshing around in the beat-up old mug. “Made the pie myself. It’s cherry in case you were wondering…
real
sweet.”

I watch as the black lace of her bra peeks through the open buttons of her tight waitressing uniform. The bright red lipstick is slathered on thick.

“I’ll bet it is, darling,’” I sip the hot drink and wince as the metallic tinge hits my tongue. Ehh… not great, but it’ll do the trick.

I drink my coffee black but in this case I’m willing to make an exception. I pour the sugar from the dispenser to make the coffee tolerable. Just as I replace the glass jar next to the napkin holder, the screen to my phone lights up.

“Yeah, bro,” I greet T.J. “’Sup?”

The reception’s not great. “Just your girl… high as a kite.”

I drop the mug down hard on the saucer, spilling some of the contents. “What’d you say?”

The speaker crackles. “Your Ol’ lady. Seems she’s picked up a little pharmacological
hobby
.”

I sit back.

“Shit.” I breathe deep. “You positive?”

There’s a small pause. “Found her myself, passed out on the floor. Pretty sure her baby sister is covering for her.”

T.J’s been around long enough for me to know his backstory. His ma was an addict back in the day. It killed her, too. If anyone’s qualified to spot the symptoms… it’s him.

“Thanks, bro. I’m on my way back to town, anyway. Was gonna stop, but I think now I’ll just ride straight through. Should be back late morning. You keep an eye on her till I get there.”

I push the coffee away, spilling some more in the process and balance the phone between my ear and my shoulder as I count enough bills to cover the tab.