White Heat (Lost Kings MC #5) (40 page)

I agree even though I’m not really sure where he’s going with this. “I know she’s still struggling a little.”

“Yeah, shit like that doesn’t get fixed over night, but I’m glad they’re sorting it out. Wish I’d knocked their heads together sooner.”

“Not everything is your responsibility, Rock. They’re both adults.”

He pins me with a questioning look, like he’s not so sure.

We didn’t notice it on the way in, but the diner only accepts cash. I smirk as I reach into my pocket and hand him the money I’d stuffed in there earlier. Rock gives me this pained expression, as if it’s offending him deeply to let me pay for breakfast and I can’t help laughing. I lean over the table and whisper to him. “I know you think because you’re the man, it’s on you to do everything, but sometimes it’s okay to let me pay for breakfast.”

He rolls his eyes.

“Besides, it’s all going to be
our
money soon anyway.”

“Oh, boy,” he mutters.

After breakfast, we drive farther north, following Route 1 along the coast. In some places the ocean’s right beside us, in others houses or hotels obscure our view. We stop at a park with an out of commission lighthouse, scale large, uneven rocks until we’re staring out at the sea, wind whipping around us. Rock doesn’t seem to have any particular plans on our trip, other than being outside as much as possible. I can’t blame him for that.

“You cold, baby?” he asks as he wraps me in his arms. As his warmth sinks into me, it becomes apparent how chilled I was.

“A little.” I turn and burrow my head against his chest, soaking in his warmth, inhaling his comforting scent. He leans down and I stretch to kiss his cheek. “Do you want to head back?” I whisper against his ear.

Fuck yes I want to go back to our room, lay her out on the bed and go at her like a starved wildebeest.

My arms tighten around Hope and my gaze wanders to the vast sea behind her. We still have a lot to talk about and there’s no way we’ll get any talking done in our room.

“Why don’t we keep going north and into Portland?”

She raises an eyebrow.

“I want to buy my girl something pretty.”

“Shopping over sex?” She places the back of her hand against my forehead. “Are you okay?”

My hand captures hers and I nip at her fingers. “Don’t test me. I’ll bend you over the bike in broad daylight if you keep it up.”

She laughs and skips out of my hold, dancing away. “
Oooh
, I might like that.”

I catch up to her easily, snagging her around the waist and pulling her up against my body. She squeals and tips her head back for a kiss, which I don’t deny her. I’m giving serious thought to carrying out my threat, when a Maine state trooper pulls into the parking lot. We’re one of maybe three families at the park this time of year. Hope follows my gaze.

“Come on. Let’s go. Maybe I want to buy
you
something pretty too.”

Her words chase any dark thoughts away.

We park near the waterfront in the Old Port district. Hope’s eager gaze scans the area. “I don’t know where to start.”

The ferry to one of the islands is out. The next one isn’t for two hours. Instead, I take her hand and lead her across the street. The first store she wants to check out is so small, I feel like a gorilla in a flower shop. Since it’s full of barely there underwear, I keep my complaints to myself.

“What’re you trying to do to me, Baby Doll?” I whisper in her ear when the salesgirl finally leaves us alone.

Her big green eyes stare up at me full of innocence, but her mouth twitches with mischief. “What do you mean?”

“Miss, do you want to try those on?” the salesgirl asks, nodding at the pile of skimpy lacey things in Hope’s hands.

“Yes, please.”

I’m aroused, amused and everything in between, while I wait for her. “Are you going to show me?” I ask.

The salesgirl clears her throat and scowls at me.

“Come here,” Hope hush-whispers from behind the thin, black curtain separating us.

My hand slaps the curtain to the side and she gasps. “Close that!”

“It’s barely open,” I manage to get out before my brain processes what’s in front of me. Stretchy, black lace, sheer enough for the outline of her nipples to show through in some sort of halter-bra style. “I like. Get two.”

She chuckles and drops her head to stare at her chest. Her hands come up and cup her lace-covered breasts, and suddenly there’s a lot less room in my pants. “I don’t know if it holds—”

“It’ll hold just fine when you’re wearing that and nothing else around our new house.”

Her eyes meet mine and a smile curves her lips up. “Get out of here, caveman.” She waves her hand and snatches the curtain shut.

When she’s finished, the salesgirl shows her matching underwear. I nod at the same thing in blue and Hope plucks it off the rack, carrying everything to the register.

“I want you to know how cruel that was,” I say once we step outside.

She laughs as she wraps her hand around mine and tugs me down the sidewalk. The next store we pass is some yuppie pet store. “Did Z tell you about the puppies?” she asks.

“What?”

“Uh-oh.” She ducks inside and purchases two plushy-squeaky toys. This time I wait outside. As if there’d been no interruption in our conversation, she takes my hand again. “Z brought two pups home with Mariella.”

“Oh. He failed to mention that.”

She gives me a sly look. “Well, you had other things on your mind.”

I lean down and growl against her ear. “Damn right.”

She turns and our lips meet. Right there on the sidewalk, we stumble and stop for a kiss. We’re jostled by a couple kids on skateboards who speed up when they catch the look on my face.

Hope takes my hand again. “Do you feel different with it being just the two of us?” She glances over and nods at my plain leather jacket. “Without your colors?”

“Yeah. It feels weird. Felt naked at first.” I have to stop and think how to put it into words. “It’s been a large part of my identity for a long time.”

“I know,” she says softly.

“Do you wish it was like this all the time?”

She doesn’t hesitate. “If you’re asking me if I want you to leave the club, my answer’s no.” She tips her head up and grins at me. “But I
am
looking forward to moving into our own house.”

I can’t think of a more perfect answer from my woman.

I pull Rock into a specialty foods store next. After picking through a rack of organic spices, I find what I want.

Rock raises an eyebrow.

“When I was little and we were on vacation, my dad liked to find local spices or something to bring back. Liked it better than cheap nic-knacks and it took up less room.”

“Clever.”

A faint smile turns my mouth up. I shake the bottle at him. “Casco Bay seasoning.”

He tips his head toward the waterfront across the street. “Maine’s version of Old Bay?”

“I think so.” I snag an extra jar. “I’m going to grab one for Trinity too.”

At the register, I spot a large, glass pitcher curved into a fish. “Oh, those are so pretty. Too bad, we don’t have a lot of room.”

“There’s a post office a few streets over, we can mail it home if—”

“We can ship it to you,” the clerk says.

Rock nods. “Wrap it up.”

“Hungry yet?” Rock asks once we’re back outside.

“Not really.” I pat my stomach. “Still full of french toast.”

He snorts and takes me into a jewelry store. “Let’s look for something pretty for you.”

Something pretty turns out to be an understatement. Everything in the boutique is beautiful…and expensive. Rock doesn’t seem to care. He picks out a pair of green tourmaline earrings and asks me to try them on.

“You never told me what color dress you ended up getting,” he says as I twist my head to see the earrings in the small hand mirror the jeweler handed me.

“It’s a surprise.”

I’m pretty sure he rolls his eyes.

“We need to have
some
mystery.”

“No. We don’t,” he says dryly. Then to the woman hovering behind the counter. “We’ll take them.”

As she’s ringing up the earrings, Rock slips an arm around my waist and whispers in my ear, “I want to see you wear those earrings and nothing else.”

“Right now?”

I get a pinch on my ass for that one. “No, sass-mouth.”

Back out on the sidewalk, he points across the street. “Think you’ll be hungry by the time we walk over there?”

“I thought you were horny?” I ask, not really caring who overhears our conversation.

He chuckles at my brashness. “I’m also hungry and want to keep my stamina up for the night ahead.”

“Oh my. Big plans?”

“Very big.”

Our silly banter turns me on something awful and I think I’d rather find a dark corner than dinner. The simmering way he keeps staring at me as he takes my hand and leads me to the restaurant does nothing to lessen the heat building inside me.

I’m not even sure how to describe the place we walk into. Part Maine lobster shack, part country-western bar. Considering it’s off-season, the long wait for a table surprises me. But by the time we’re finally seated, I’m starving.

“Good thing you insisted on dinner. Now, I’m hungry.”

His mouth curves up but he doesn’t say anything.

“You always take such good care of me,” I say after the waitress takes our orders.

The smile slides off his face. “I need to do a better job.”

I tip my head to the side, hoping he’ll finish that thought, but he changes the subject.

“So you traveled a lot with your dad?”

“Oh. Well, yeah. Nothing major. But he always liked to see new things.”

He raises an eyebrow, but I’m not sure what else he’s looking for. Uncomfortable, I shrug and glance toward the kitchen. “Didn’t do any traveling after he died. Unless you count moving from apartment to apartment.” The joke’s more strained than funny. “Clay and I tried to go places when we could afford it.”

Rock squeezes my hand, drawing my attention back to him. “That’s what club life was supposed to be about. Freedom to come and go as I pleased. Be on the open road as much as possible—”

“Being president doesn’t seem to lend itself to that,” I point out.

His mouth curves into a wry smile. “No. Outlaws, surprisingly have a lot of their own laws.”

A snort bursts out of me, because from what I’ve learned, that seems like such an understatement.

“But all of it is or was meant to be a means to an end—taking care of the family.”

“I think you’ve done a good job of that.”

“Sometimes I think I’ve gotten so caught up with
the life
, that what it’s supposed to be about—brotherhood and love of the open road gets obscured.”

“Do you want to know what I think?” He raises an eyebrow, which I take as a yes. “I think you’re too hard on yourself.”

Our waitress drops off plates of food and ties a bib around my neck for the lobster. “I feel like an idiot,” I mumble as I start ripping off legs and cracking lobster shells.

Rock’s low chuckle draws my gaze up. “You look cute.”

“Anyway,” I huff out. “You forget, I just watched an entire club come together in support of their brother. I don’t think any of them would have been so steadfast if you hadn’t earned their loyalty. I listened to every person in that clubhouse at one time or another tell me a story of how you impacted their life. Things you probably thought were small, but obviously made a difference.”

For the first time in a long time, Rock looks uncomfortable. Possibly speechless.

Finally, he shakes it off and digs into his food. “Wrath stepped up. Z too. Made some tough calls. Used good judgment.”

“You must trust them, or they wouldn’t be where they are.”

“Oh, I do. No doubt. Told you, I trust Wrath with my life. But he’s also always been a bit impulsive.”

I have nothing to add to that, so I keep stuffing my face.

“You like the ride Murphy set up?” he asks after a few minutes.

Confused by what seems like another turn in our conversation, I simply nod. Well, that and my mouth is full.

“Club used to go on a lot of longer runs together. Haven’t done much of it lately. We were supposed to do the Virginia Beach one this summer, but that got fucked up.”