Crash (Brazen Bulls MC #1)(18)



“I want to talk about your front door.”

She’d been swallowing a bite of biscuit, and she choked a little. “That’s where you want to start?”

He nodded. “Seems like the right place. It’s not a safe as you think it is. You’re lockin’ yourself in. If you need to get out in a hurry, you can’t. Thumb-turn locks are better. What that door does is pretend to keep you safe.”

“If somebody breaks the glass, though, they can just turn a thumb-turn.”

“Then put in a door without glass.”

“I’m not dumb, Rad. I would have. But that door is original to the house, and it’s not a standard size. I’d have to have it custom made, and I can’t afford it.”

He had some contacts that could help with that, but he decided now wasn’t quite the time to make that offer. “What about the windows?”

She set her fork down and leaned back in her chair. “I guess you didn’t notice in your obviously careful inspection of my house, but the windows are reinforced. The decorative diamonds aren’t leaded glass—there’s a metal guard between the panes.”

“But you can still open them?”

“Yes. They can only be opened from inside.” She sighed. “Rad, why is this your business?”

“I see a problem, I fix it. That’s who I am. You want to get to know me, you should know that first. I don’t stand by. I see that you think you need a lot of security—and I’m gonna need to know why—but I see that you’re makin’ new problems tryin’ to solve your first one. So I’m gonna help you fix things so you’re as safe as can be.”

She shook her head.

“Yeah, darlin’. That’s how I work.”

“I told you I didn’t want someone to come in and solve my problems for me.”

“And I just told you I don’t stand by when I see trouble.” He pushed his plate away. “We at an impasse already?”

She picked at her biscuit. Rad chewed on his lip, watching her fingers break off crumbles. He didn’t want to go, but he would. If they were going to butt heads already, best they stop now, before anything got started.

Except that he felt like something already had started.

“I don’t want to be with somebody who’s going to take me over. Been there, done that. If I want anything, it’s a partner.” She hadn’t looked up from her demo work on the biscuit, and her voice had been low.

He reached over and set his hand on her arm. “I’m not looking to run your life, darlin’. But if we do this, see where this goes, I don’t sit on the sidelines. I’m gonna say my piece, and you’re gonna listen.”

“Do I get my say, too? Do you listen, too?”

He grinned. “I won’t say that’s easy for me. You might have to pop my nose to get my attention when I get fired up. But I try.”

“So you are an *.”

That made him take his hand back. “I guess maybe it’s true. My ex sure says so. But I’m not tryin’ to be. I’m tryin’ to take care. And if I’m wrong, I’ll see it in time and back off. About your door, I am not wrong, and I think you know it.”

She picked up her biscuit and took a bite. Around the mouthful, she said, “When I can afford a new door, I’ll change it. For now, the risk of a fire is the lesser risk.”

He’d been about to offer to help with the door, but her second sentence shifted his interest. “Okay. Talk to me about this bad ex who’s got us fightin’ already.”

“This is the least romantic first date in the history of the world.” She dropped the biscuit to her plate and pushed it away.

He laughed. “Romantic is not somethin’ I am. I’m forty years old, Willa, and my life ain’t been easy. I don’t have time for all that matin’ dance bullshit. I don’t f*ck around. There’s somethin’ to say, I say it. There’s somethin’ to do, I do it. It’s not gonna occur to me to buy flowers, and maybe I’ll forget a birthday or two. Maybe I’m the kinda guy who’s better off bangin’ the sweetbutts at the clubhouse and not tryin’ for more. But if we get close, things get serious, then I will stand in fire to take care of you. If you need me, I will be there. I like you. I want to get to know you. I want to get close. Even now, when you’re scowlin’ at me like my fourth-grade teacher when I put the cherry bomb in the boys’ room toilet, I want to stay and finish this cold chicken and soupy slaw. Maybe it was the wreck shakin’ us up last night, but somethin’ caught between us, and I think you feel it, too. When I kissed you, I know you felt it.”

Her scowl had smoothed away as he’d spoken, and now she was staring at him with wide eyes, her mouth open. He waited.

“That was quite a speech,” she finally said.

“I ain’t shy about speakin’ my mind.”

“I see that.”

“So you want to tell me about your ex or not?”

“Okay. Okay.” She put her hands on the table as if she meant to stand. “But I need a fresh beer first. You want one?”

Like he would sit there and let her hobble up into the kitchen to serve him. “Sit.” He stood. “I’ll get ‘em.” He expected yet another fight from her, but she gave him a hesitant smile and relaxed in her seat.

Susan Fanetti's Books