Reaper's Stand (Reapers Motorcycle Club Book 4)(20)

“I can’t. But I can come on Wednesday.”

“Wednesday isn’t good for me. Tomorrow.”

“No, I can come on Wednesday,” I repeated. “I have to take Jess over to the hospital in Spokane tomorrow. She has an appointment with a specialist and it’s not like you can just reschedule those.”

He frowned.

“What does she need to see a specialist for?”

“That’s her business,” I replied, straightening myself. “I appreciate your help the other night, but that’s not a license to invade our privacy.”

The girl’s eyes went wide.

“I need to go get something out of my car,” she said quickly. I started forward, deciding retreat was the better part of valor, but Hayes stood in my way. The man was like a brick wall. A really frustrating brick wall. I tried to slip past him, but he wrapped one big hand around my upper arm, stopping me. Shoot. I’d forgotten to be afraid of him.

This was a mistake, because he could turn on scary just like that.

“What’s up with your girl?” he asked again, his voice soft. “I know she’s a wild kid, but this sounds like more.”

I stared at his broad chest, refusing to meet his eyes. He wore a torn T-shirt that had seen better days, and it didn’t do much to hide the latent strength of his muscles or just how easily he could hold me here indefinitely. Not only that, he smelled good. So unfair.

“I really don’t want to talk about it.”

His eyes narrowed.

“Do you need help, London?” he asked. “You work for us now. If there’s a problem, you should tell me. Even if there isn’t, I should know if you’ve got something big going on. Everything that touches the club is my business.”

I snorted. Now he was interested in learning more about our lives?

“It’s nothing important,” I replied, forcing my voice to stay smooth, because it wasn’t nothing and never would be. “We just need to get her checked out. But I can come back on Wednesday right after lunch. Would that work for you?”

He studied me a moment longer, then slowly rubbed his hands up and down my arms before letting me go. This was fortunate, because I’m pretty sure I got goose bumps and the last thing I needed was him figuring out how I reacted to his touch.

“I won’t be here on Wednesday,” he said. “But I can program in a code for you to use. I’ll text it to you in the morning, sound good?”

“Fantastic,” I said, feeling almost desperate to get away. “You’re busy, I don’t want to keep you. Night!”

I darted out the door before he could respond, then stopped on the porch. Shit. As much as I wanted to get the hell away, I needed to apologize. What I’d said about his room and Heather had been so wrong on so many levels . . . I turned to face Reese, meeting his eyes directly.

“That comment about your bedroom? That was wrong. I have no right to say anything about your home or your room—or your wife. I’m sorry. It was thoughtless and hurtful.”

Reese didn’t respond right away, just studied my face. Then he nodded his head slowly. Good enough for me, so I turned and moved quickly toward my van. The woman I’d seen inside leaned against her car, smoking and watching me with openly concerned eyes.

“You okay?”

“Fine,” I said. “No worries.”

She shrugged, throwing down the butt and twisting it under her foot. She walked back to the house as I loaded my supplies. Out of the corner of my eye I saw her go to Reese. He guided her into the house, shutting the door behind them. I started to climb into my vehicle, then glanced over at the butt on the dirt.

Leave it.

I couldn’t. Being a neat freak is a curse sometimes, but darned if I could just drive away and leave that nasty little thing lying there. I gave the house a quick glance to make sure I was all clear before stomping over to pick it up. Clutching it carefully between two fingers, I carried it around the side of the house to the trash can.

It took two seconds to toss it in, and then another for a quick squirt of hand sanitizer from the little tube in my pocket.

Better.

So what if I couldn’t control Jessica and I felt awkward and uncomfortable around Reese? At least that particular cigarrette butt wouldn’t pollute anything today. I decided to count it as a victory.

? ? ?

“She has a gift, you know.”

I glanced over at Maggs, the new volunteer coordinator at the community center.