Rake's Redemption (Wind Dragons MC #4)(35)

Finally, when I can’t take any more, I lower my gaze to his lips.

His lips quirk, in a familiar way.

I puff out a breath. “Well. I have . . . stuff to do.”

“Do you need any help?” he asks, flashing me an innocent look.

I purse my lips. “I didn’t think you did housework. I’m pretty sure Anna said you have women picking up after you.”

He shrugs, eyes dancing with amusement. “Doesn’t mean I don’t know how.”

I open my mouth and then close it. It really irks me that he turned into such a man-whore. And he doesn’t even deny it. He just accepts my digs and acts like he doesn’t care in the least what I think about it. He makes no apologies. At least I was his first, and that’s something that no one can change, no matter how stupid that sounds. I’d never even admit it out loud.

“It’s fine,” I tell him. “You can leave if you like. Tia is here and nothing will happen to us in the middle of the day.”

Rake scowls, his mouth tightening. “Pretty sure that f*cker approached you in the middle of the day last time.”

I hate that he’s right.

I look around the room. “It’s just weird you . . . hanging around here.”

“I said I’d help. Put my ass to work,” he says simply, like he isn’t a big, bad biker, dressed in all black, like he does car pools every day. I study him. He really is a handsome man. More than that, electric. Sensual. The stubble on his cheeks gives him a rugged look, while the glint in his eyes tells you that he would definitely give you a good time. He oozes sex appeal, confidence, but there’s also a goofiness around him that I haven’t seen much of since being back in his presence. I don’t know if that’s because of me or because he’s changed over the years. Maybe this life has made him harder. Or maybe he’s just guarded and moody around me.

“How handy are you?” I ask, already knowing the answer. Growing up without a father, Rake was born the man of the house, so he was always the one fixing shit around the house.

He tilts his head and raises an eyebrow, knowing the question doesn’t even justify an answer.

I push my hair back behind my ear. “I have a list of a few things that need fixing. I was going to call a handyman in.”

“Give me the list,” he demands softly. “And from now on, you need anything fixed, you call me. No point wasting your money when I can do it for you.”

“You don’t need to—”

“Give me the list, Bailey.”

I walk to the fridge and pull down a piece of paper from the top of it. I can feel my T-shirt rise and quickly pull it down, then turn to face him. “Here.”

He takes the list from my hand, our fingers touching. I pretend I don’t feel the shock wave from such a simple touch, and rub my fingers together as he reads over it and nods his head. “No problem. I’ll have all this done by tomorrow for you.”

He walks by me, then stops.

I can smell him.

His cologne is delicious, a mixture of spice and citrus that has me wanting to melt into him.

But I stand still.

He looks like he wants to say something, but then he shakes his head and leaves the room.

I release the breath I’m holding.





FIFTEEN




SO,” I say a little awkwardly. How does one make small talk with a biker? It’s easy with Rake and Tracker, but the rest of them are a little trickier. I don’t really know anything about Wolf, or Vinnie, which is what all the women call him, other than the fact that he looks pretty young, has a shaved head, is handsome in a masculine way, and has dark eyes.

He glances my way but doesn’t say anything. He’s probably still angry I told him I wanted to drive and didn’t give in to him no matter how much he tried to intimidate me with his scowl, large size, and narrowed gaze.

“I’m sorry you were stuck tagging along for my errands. I had no idea that Rake was going to make you come with me when he said he’d fix up a few things at the house,” I say, nervously babbling to fill up the silence. “I don’t really know anything about you.”

He sighs and shakes his head. “Not much to tell. Club is my life; the men are my family. I don’t mind doing whatever needs to be done. I like to be useful.”

“Oh,” I say, thinking of something else I could ask to break the ice a little more. “What’s your favorite meal?”

He chuckles, and I find myself both liking the sound and relaxing a little.

“You gonna cook for me?” he asks, now sounding amused.

I shrug. “Sure. I mean, I’m thankful for everything you all do for me. I’d love to cook something for you.”

“I don’t think Rake will like that,” I hear him mutter under his breath, followed by a few more deep chuckles.

“He will have to deal,” I say quickly, making him laugh some more.

“My favorite meal is lasagna with breaded chicken,” he finally says. “I don’t like the tomato bits in the lasagna though.”

I make a face. “Lasagna with breaded chicken breast? Isn’t that a little weird?”

He sighs, but I see his lips twitching. “Typical woman. Ask me a question, then complain about the answer.”