Beautiful Outlaw (8 page)

“I’ll be fine; I promise. It will be a nice change from all the teenage madness.” I smile at her, letting her see the affection I feel for her daughter.  “I’m going to enjoy the alone time.  I love Rachel, but she runs me ragged with all her shopping,”

She lets out a laugh, pulling me in for a hug.  “She loves you,
Cariño
and wants to spend time with you.  All that drama is how she shows that love.”

“I know she does, and I love her too.” I give her a squeeze before stepping back.  “I love you too, Nina.”

Lifting a hand to pat my cheek, she smiles lovingly.  “I know you do, my
hija
.”

By the end of my first month here, I went from just a houseguest to a friend.  A month later I graduated to daughter status.  It was uncomfortable at first, still missing my mom so much.  I now adore being called her honorary
hija
. If I can’t have my mom around, I feel privileged to have her. 

I miss Mom desperately, though.  Dad too, but it’s different with him.  I don’t have the constant worry that I will never be able to see him again like I do with Mom.  With each day that passes, not calling them gets harder.  I desperately want to hear their voices; I want to tell them I’m happier than I have been in years, and make sure that Mom is okay.

A toot of the horn has Nina grabbing her purse from the table.  “We’ll be back in few hours.”

“Okay, have fun.”

She throws up a hand in goodbye, before heading out the door.  As soon as I hear it shut behind her, I grab a bowl from the cabinet and pull out the flour.  Finally, I turn on the iPod and hit my 80’s playlist.  When the first notes hit the air, I mentally thank Rachel for forcing me to buy it. Seconds later, I’m belting out the lyrics, begging for someone to hit me with their best shot right along with Pat Benatar. I lose myself in the freedom of being able to sing and dance around the kitchen, while mixing my favorite cookies.

What the fuck?

Bowie

Pulling into the driveway, I notice Nina’s car is gone.  I climb off my bike, hoping I didn’t make the trip for nothing.  Slowly making my way towards the door, I can hear the sounds of some sucky-ass eighties pop coming from the house.  Good, at least someone is here. 

When I pull the door open, an off key voice attempting to sing Love Shack by The B-52’s assaults my ears, causing me to laugh.  I stifle it as I quietly walk to the kitchen.  After reaching the door, I stop dead in my tracks.  The hottest fuckin’ chick I’ve ever seen is dancing around the kitchen, singing into a dough-covered spoon. 

Her hair is full of waves, stopping at mid back.  It’s the color of winter wheat, right before the harvest. I watch as it sways back and forth, following the rhythm of her hips.  My eyes lock on her ass, which is covered in a pair of cutoff jean shorts.  They’re frayed on the edges, barely covering her ass. I lean a hip against the door, and look my fill. 

My eyes slowly move down her body, taking in every inch of her tanned legs.  There is a small tattoo near her ankle, a beautiful purple heart dripping bright red blood.  Above it, the word Mom is written in an elaborate script. The skin surrounding it is still red, letting me know just how new the ink is.  I’m still staring at the perfection, when her feet stop moving and she lets out a shrill shout.  My eyes instantly jerk up, landing on the woman that has been on my mind for the last four months. 

“What the fuck?” I mutter, as I stare into the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen.  They’re nothing at all like the mud colored ones I saw the last time I looked at them. 

Her hand flies to her chest and she bends at the middle, taking in deep breaths.  “You scared me to death, Bowie.”

“Laura?” I choke out. 

Her head instantly flies up, eyes landing on me.  “My name is Shay.”

She sounds angry.  Hell, she sounds pissed as fuck.  “Yeah, the name fits you now.”

She doesn’t question my response.  Instead, she walks forward, lifting her finger in my direction.  “Never make that mistake again.  Here, I’m Shay.  Laura is just a memory.”

The cold bitch, the one that could piss ice cubes in the Sahara, is gone.  This woman is pure fire, and just being near her is making my dick hard. “What the hell happened to you?”

Her hand instantly goes to her hair.  “I’m me again. My name might be different, but everything else is all me. This is the person I was meant to be before my marriage.”

The changes are like a kick in the gut, this girl is so sure of herself, in complete control of everything around her. Not the scared, frightened of her own shadow, little mouse I met at the bus station. She’s beautiful, confident and everything a man could want. I know I sure as hell do, and not for one night either. This is the kind of woman I wouldn’t be able to get enough of, the kind I can see wearing my patch.

Where the hell did that come from? I shake my head, as I let the thought sink in.  Nah, I can’t do it.  I can’t claim my best friend’s sister.  Especially when she is on the run from her husband. I take in her body from head to toe, remembering the fire in her eyes just a moment ago, and think about it a second more and wonder. 
Why the fuck not? 

This is a woman that would ride bitch and love every minute of it. Exactly the kind of woman I said I wanted; fuck the consequences, I’m going to make her mine. Without hesitating I step closer to her.  “Want to take a ride?”

“What?” She asks, confused by the abrupt subject change. 

Not giving her time to think, I grab her hand.  “We’re going for a ride.”

“I’m making cookies.” She says trying to pull away.

I look at the mess bowls and half-filled pans.  “You can finish when we get back.”

Jerking her hand from mine, she walks over to the stove and cuts it off.  Then, she comes back to me.  “Let me put on some shoes.”

I watch as she walks to the door and slides her feet into a pair of fuckin’ flip flops.  “No, way.  Go put on some boots or something.  You’re not getting on my bike with those things on.”

She doesn’t say anything just tosses the flips flops back to their spot by the door and stomps back to her room.  A second later she comes out wearing a pair of chucks.  “Not boots, but they’ll do.”

She doesn’t bother responding, just walks out the door.  I watch her go, enjoying the view. After she disappears onto the porch, I pull out my phone.  Tapping on my brother’s name.  I lift it to my ear and wait for him to answer.

“Brother.”

“Stay the fuck away from Shay.” I order, not bothering to explain. 

He laughs before replying.  “She’s a fuckin’ hot piece, isn’t she?”

I don’t see one damn thing funny about this and I don’t have time for his shit, so I just lay it out.  “She’s mine.”

So Rude

Shay

After the way he treated me when he dropped me on Nina’s doorstep, I shouldn’t want to be anywhere near him.  I should have told Bowie to kiss my ass and kept making cookies, but here I am on the back of his bike.  Just like last time, I feel free.  There is nothing like riding down the road, the wind whipping through my hair.  The vibration of the motor hums through my body, leaving warmth in its wake. 

Time flies by, as I watch the scenery change from fields full of tobacco plants to the city streets of Owensboro. After what seems like just minutes, but probably more like an hour, Bowie turns the bike into the parking lot of a barbeque restaurant. 

As soon as he kills the motor, he taps my leg.  “Hop off, baby.”

I wiggle until I can get my legs from around him.  As soon as my feet hit the pavement, my legs turn to jelly.  I’m about to go down, when he reaches out to keep me standing. 

“You’ve got to get used to being on my bike,” He says with a chuckle before wrapping his strong arm around my shoulders and heading toward the restaurant.

“I thought we were going for a ride, you never mentioned stopping.”

He shrugs but doesn’t stop walking.  “Gotta eat.” 

I follow along, knowing there is no use arguing.  With every step I take, I ask myself questions.  Why the heck am I here?  Why did he want me to go for a ride? I’m so confused; it’s like he is a whole different person. The asshole that dropped me at Nina’s without a second thought is gone, and this nice guy is in his place. The change has me off balance and I don’t understand it at all.

As we step inside, the smell of smoked meat and spices reach my nose.  “It smells good in here.”

“Moonlight has the best barbecue in the entire fuckin’ world.  Traveled a lot, but never had anything like it.”

I look around and see pictures of pigs and moons covering the walls, how strange.  “It’s called Moonlight?”

He chuckles again, obviously hearing the skepticism in my voice.  “Trust me, baby.  You’re going to love it.”

The hostess leads us to the table, stealing looks at Bowie the entire way.  As we take our seat, she looks to me then back to him.  “A waitress will be here to take you and your sister’s order.”

Her voice sounds hopeful, as she smiles an obvious invitation to him.  He doesn’t explain that I’m not his sister.  He doesn’t flirt, just dashes her hopes with two words.  “Go away.”

Her face instantly falls, before she turns away and stomps back to the front of the restaurant. My eyes jerk to him.  “You didn’t have to be so rude to her.”

He stares at me for a long moment before mumbling, “You’re shitting me, right?”

“No, you hurt her feelings.”

He shakes his head, letting out a nearly silent laugh.  “You realize she was hitting on me, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” I say with a shrug.  “You still could’ve been polite.”

He looks at me like I’ve lost my mind then smiles.  “Okay, baby.  Next time some chick tries to throw her pussy in my face, I’ll try to be nice.”

Now, it’s my turn to stare at him while thinking he’s a crazy man.  “She wasn’t throwing her… you know …at you.”

His smile grows.  “Yeah, she was.  Problem is that I’m only interested in one pussy right now.  I don’t see that changing anytime soon.”

I slump against the back of my chair, mouth hanging open.  I know I should say something, tell him that he’s being crude.  Instead, I just start to laugh.  “You are terrible.”

“Nope, just honest.” He replies with a wink as the waitress approaches our table. 

Neither of us say another word as we look over our menus.  I have trouble focusing on the options though.  Instead, I keep wondering why the warm feeling I felt on the bike hasn’t disappeared.  I catch a glimpse of Bowies beard covered face and think I know the answer.

Dinner with the Family

Bowie

The smell of Nina’s homemade enchiladas hit my nose as soon as I walk into the house.  Looking over my shoulder, I smile at my brothers.  “She went all out tonight.”

“
Mamá
wanted all her boys to be here, so she pulled out the big guns,” Tin man says as he follows behind me.

That’s true.  She doesn’t get us both here at the same time often.  She doesn’t get the other boys over very often at all, so she makes sure to put on her best show when we come.  When it comes to Nina that means enough food to feed an army, every bit of it fuckin’ delicious. 

“I shouldn’t have to bribe my kids to come home for dinner every once in a while,” Nina states as she walks into the room. Her eyes narrow in on Red and Rollo.  “You two are even worse.  You only come to visit when you’re hungry.”

I smile again, when I notice her, a blue-checkered apron, with splattered red sauce across the fabric.  Her dark hair is pulled back by a green bandana, and there is a large smear of flour on her cheek. Her face is covered in a huge smile as she reaches up to place a kiss on my cheek

I watch as both of them start to squirm, everyone respects the hell out of her.  Finally, Rollo speaks up.  “Sorry, Nina.”

She helped raise us all, and we love her for it.  Rollo, like me, grew up around the clubhouse.  He had a mother, but she wasn’t the motherly type.  She preferred being on her Old Man’s arm, instead of taking care of a kid.  So, when I moved into Nina’s, he ended up spending more time here than at home.  Red only started coming around when he met Tin in high school.  He and Tin are close, and because of that, he has become one of the few people I trust.  He comes from a good family, and even though they don’t like the path he’s chosen for himself, they are still tight. 

Before she moves on to Tin, she whispers in my ear.  “Shay is in the kitchen, go help her set the table.”

I hear her telling Tin that she made sour cream cake, his favorite from our childhood, as I step away from them. After that, I hear Rollo say
Fuckin’ A
and the sound of Nina’s hand slapping him on what I’m sure is the side of his head.  “Watch your mouth.”

I chuckle at them as I walk into the kitchen. As soon as I step inside, I see Shay and Priss standing by the counter.  Shay is frosting the cake, while Priss dips her fingers into the bowl to steal a taste.  Both girls are laughing and jabbering a mile a minute.

“If you keep eating that, I won’t have enough to frost the cake.”

“Who cares, if the boys want cake they should come over more often.” Priss replies, dipping her finger in for a bit more. 

“I care,” I say as I walk up to them, reaching into the bowl to get my own taste.  “It’s been for-fuckin’-ever since I had this shit.”

Priss giggles, looking up to me with bright eyes.  “Watch your mouth, or
Mamá
will get you.”

I hear a muffled laugh come from Shay and look towards her.  She is chewing on her bottom lip, but her smile is apparent.  I reach into the bowl and get just a bit of frosting on my finger.  Bringing it to her mouth, I smear some across her lips.  Her teeth immediately release her bottom lip and I lean down to run my tongue over the frosting. 

When I pull back, I see that her eyes are huge.  “Sweet as hell.”

“Yuck,” Priss says from beside us, pulling on my shirt.  “Leave Shay alone.  She doesn’t want your nasty beard anywhere near her mouth.”