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I turn back around. “What is it?” I ask.
He shoves his hands in his pockets. “I meant what I said. She can’t storm off like that again. If something happens and she ends up dead, then we are all fucking dead. Bobby may be a club ally and friend, but if something happens to his daughter, then we are fucked,” Ghost warns.
I cross my heart. “Pres, she is precious cargo. I get it. Believe me, I don’t want any harm coming to her either,” I state.
He eyes me and shakes his head, smiling. “You are fucked, brother. You are well and truly fucked.”
The entire drive over, she sat in silence in the passenger seat, her arms crossed, her body turned away from me, looking out the window. I didn’t even bother trying to start a conversation. There was no point, because she wasn’t about to cave in any time soon.
I turn down my drive, and I notice how she looks all around. “Where are we going?” she asks.
“This is my drive,” I answer.
“But there isn’t anything other than farmland,” she points out.
I smile. “I know. I own it.”
I look across at her, and her mouth practically drops to the floor of the car. I pull up to my house, a large farmhouse, with a wrap-around porch.
She stares out the window, stunned. “This is your home?” she asks.
I jump out of the truck. “Come on darlin’, there is supposed to be a storm coming in,” I say, slamming the door behind me.
I grab her bags out of the back of the truck, and she jumps out and follows me up the steps, her eyes looking everywhere, taking everything in. I open the front door and hold it open for her.
“Holy fuck,” she blurts out as she steps into the large open plan living space that curls around to the kitchen at the back.
I shut the door behind her. “I will put your stuff in the bedroom. Go help yourself to a drink. I got Queenie to stock up the fridge and cupboards when I found out we were coming here,” I tell her as I walk upstairs and place her bag in my bedroom.
I walk back downstairs and find her stood at the large stone-topped kitchen island. “Okay, how?” she asks.
I open the fridge and pull out a beer. “How what?” I ask.
She pulls a face. “This?” she asks, gesturing to the house.
“I saved some money, made some investments, played the market a little, and I got lucky. Then this place came on the market. It was run down, so I got it at a great price, did it up, and that’s it.” I shrug.
“But the farmland surrounding it has crops,” she points out.
“Oh, I know. My neighbour is a farmer. I let him use my land, and he pays me a percentage of what he makes from it until he has enough to buy it from me permanently, but there is still half an acre of back yard,” I say as I open the sliding glass doors.
“It’s stunning,” she compliments, surprised.
“Thanks,” I answer before I walk back to the fridge to see what food Queenie brought in. “You fancy steaks for dinner?” I ask over my shoulder.
She doesn’t answer. Instead, she asks the question that is always on anyone’s mind when they see this place. “You have all this, this amazing house, with a large yard, and um...”
She pauses. “4 bedrooms,” I correct her.
“4 bedrooms. It’s clean and peaceful, and yet you chose to sleep at the club. Why?” she asks in disbelief.
I close the fridge and step into her personal space. “Because darlin’, I made this place to be a home, to be shared, and I never found anyone I wanted to share it with. Until now,” I state. Taking advantage of her shocked state, I place a kiss to the top of her head before I walk into the living area, a great big smile on my face.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
BELLE
He cooked! He actually cooked us dinner. Who is this guy? I thought he was just a rough and ready biker, liked cheap booze and cheap pussy, but being here, seeing him outside the club, I’m seeing many new sides to him.
