Beautiful Outlaw by Emily Minton
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 toward 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’s 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 messy 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 flip 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.”