Page 58 of Cash

“No. That’s why I’m here. I wanted to clear things up.”

I thought I knew what he was trying to say, but I felt like I may be reading between the lines. Considering his nervous state – and the fact that he’d done nothing more than mutter a few half-baked sentences – I stood and shook my head.

“I just finished spring inventory. It’s been a long, exhausting day, and I’m mentally challenged right now,” I explained. “Start at the beginning. Just say everything you want to say, and don’t leave anything out.”

He forced a sigh and then looked right at me. “That first night we went out, I decided you were different. In my gut, I wanted to see you again, because I’d never been with a chick that made me feel like I was kicking it with one of the fellas, but that’s how you made me feel. Then, when you sucked my cock, it scared me. I was afraid that I’d become dependent upon you, and if I did, it’d mean I was weak. Even so, I was pretty excited about that blowjob, so I told all of the fellas about it at church. Then, when Baker asked if I was going to keep seeing you, I said ‘no’. Not because I didn’t want to, but because I was scared about that dependency thing. Technically, because Tito heard me say that I wasn’t going to see you any more, I was wrong when I hit him, even though I wasn’t emotionally disconnected from you. It took Goose and Ghost getting in my face about it to make me realize I was wrong. When they did, I went to Tito’s and apologized. He accepted my apology but kicked me in the nuts afterward. I sat at 7-Eleven with an icepack between my legs for an hour, and then I came here to apologize to you. So, here I am.” He spread his arms wide. “Any questions?”

It was a tremendous amount to digest all at once, but I did my best. I did, however, have several questions.

“Yes,” I said. “I’ve got a few.”

“Go ahead.”

“Everyone in your MC goes to church together?”

“No. If I walked into a church, I’d burst into flames,” he said with a laugh. “Church is what we call the MC’s weekly meeting.”

I tried to remember everything he’d said, and then decided it didn’t matter. He’d spilled his guts in an effort to apologize. Everything was out on the table. That, in itself, was enough to convince me he was worth my time.

As much as I wanted to avoid the subject, it was my turn to be equally honest. I inhaled a shallow breath and stood.

I held my head high and looked him in the eyes. “In the spirit of being completely honest, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. I’m biracial. My father was black.”

I braced myself for him to do what everyone else did when they found out.

He stared at me for a long moment. Then, his lips parted slightly. “Sorry,” he said. “I thought you were going to say something else. Is that it?”

I bit into my lower lip and nodded.

“Okay,” he said. “I’m half Irish. Don’t know what the other half is, because my mom didn’t know much about my dad. My Mom’s from Ireland, though. So, I’m really half Irish.”

“You’re okay with that?” I asked excitedly.

He looked puzzled. “That I’m Irish?”

I shook my head.

“With what?” he asked.

“That I’m half-black.”

“What the fuck’s that got to do with anything?” he asked. “You’re cool as a fan. That’s all that matters.”

“Cool as a fan?” I grinned and then choked on a laugh. “Is that a biker saying?”

“Yeah,” he said. “That’s one of ‘em.”

“I’m good with everything if you’re good with everything,” I said.

His eyes narrowed. “You sure?”

I was. Completely. I nodded eagerly. “Yes.”

He glanced around the room, and then looked at me. His mouth twisted into a smirk.

“Wanna fuck?” he asked playfully.

Dressed in his tattered jeans, lace-up boots, and a plain white tee shirt, Cash was strikingly handsome. He was also big, muscular, intimidating, tattooed, and mean-looking. As he stood and anxiously waited for me to respond, he exposed yet another quality about himself.