Rowe by Jessica Gadziala

CHAPTER TEN

Rowe

I didn’t resent my back issue quite as much as I did on the days following everyone learning that Billie had a possibly violent stalker.

Because everyone else—literally everyone from prospects to the old-timers—got turns being with Billie at her apartment and her jobs. Except for me.

I tried not to be upset about it. Of course Sugar and the others wanted the most able-bodied people on the job in case the situation went south fast, but it was killing me to stay away.

Especially because it seemed like we were about to have a moment right before Violet showed up.

But then Vi took over for the night, leaving me to sit back at the clubhouse, completely useless, getting care packages of teas and salves delivered to me by my brothers instead of Billie herself.

“What?” I barked, catching Dezi staring at me over the serving bowl sized helping of Froot Loops he was eating with, you guessed it, a serving spoon instead of a normal one.

“I don’t think the hippie honey’s medicine is working anymore,” he declared. “Maybe it’s time to try my medicine,” he suggested.

“What? Vodka?” I asked, shaking my head.

“Well, that certainly never hurts. But, no. I think the best medicine for all ills is some Grade A pussy,” he told me, nodding like he’d given me some sage wisdom.

“I can barely walk, Dezi,” I reminded him, waving down at my brace.

“So? Let her ride then.”

“I’m not interested,” I said, shrugging.

“Not interested, or interested in someone in particular?” he asked, making my head shoot over, finding his gaze on me.

Dezi could be light and carefree a lot of the time which made it easy to overlook the intensity you could find in him here and there. You would meet him and think he was too wrapped up in his own shit to notice anything else, but that underestimating of him was exactly what he wanted, I think. Because he did notice. He was watching. And what’s more than that, he was putting pieces together and coming up with pretty accurate conclusions.

“What are you talking about?” I asked, tone dismissive even if I felt my shoulders straightening.

“You know, the way I see it,” he said, leaning back and kicking his feet up on the coffee table, crossing his ankles, then lifting his serving bowl to drink the remaining milk. “The guys here, to them, Billie is family. And because she’s family, they don’t see her like outsiders see her. You, me, Cary, Brooks, the guys from the new chapter, when we first get to know her, she’s like a kick to the nuts.”

“Careful how you talk about her,” I growled. Then rushed to cover, “She’s not just family. She’s a princess.”

“Mmhmm,” he said, smirking. “But that’s what she is. And not just because she’s beautiful. And she is. But she’s good and sweet but also has no boundaries, is impulsive and unpredictable. She’s the whole package. These guys, they don’t see her like we see her. And none of us see her like you see her.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No? ‘Cause it seems to me that she stopped coming around here right around the time you got grumpier than usual. And finding convenient excuses not to be around for family get-togethers that you knew she couldn’t avoid.”

“Nothing happened with Billie and me,” I insisted. It rang true because it was. I’d never laid a hand on her. Not that way. Not unless playing with her hair at the tantric class counted. It hardly did, so it wasn’t worth mentioning.

“Maybe not,” he said, shrugging as he rested his hands on his stomach. “But you wanted it to. And I’m thinking that because you wanted her, and because she’s a princess, and because she wouldn’t take your subtle clues to back off, you went and let your mouth run off at her. Yeah,” he said, smirking at me. “I knew I got it right. The fuck’d you say to her? Must have been bad for her to avoid this place like the plague.”

I didn’t remember the exact words. But I remember being intentionally hard because I knew Billie was the kind of woman who was very determined and very sure of herself. If the rejection wasn’t strong enough, she would have just shrugged it off.

I’d never stopped to consider that I might hurt her.

She didn’t seem like she could get hurt.

“That bad, huh?” Dezi asked, clucking his tongue at me. “Sounds like you owe her an apology. Normal chicks want, what? Tacos and butt rubs? But Billie isn’t normal.”

“Tacos and butt rubs?” I asked, letting out an airy laugh.

“Yeah. Well, and mini cows.”

“Mini cows?” I asked, brows pinching.

“I don’t make the rules, man,” he said, waving an arm out. “But this is Billie. So, what? A sex swing? Nah, she’s gotta have one of those by now,” he said, talking mostly to himself.

While my mind ran wild with the idea of Billie having a sex swing. And the two of us being able to use it.

“Ah, a yoga retreat? A bouquet of vegan donuts? A human-sized replica of your cock to stand alongside her pussy one?”

“Pussy? Are we talking about pussy?” Sway asked, appearing out of nowhere, and dropping down in the seat across from me.

“That word is a dog whistle to him,” Crow said, coming in from the kitchen with a cup of coffee. He’d completely recovered from the bullet he’d taken at the ambush. Though, to be fair, the man had never acted like he’d even been hit. I didn’t know what it was about the guy, but it was almost like he thrived on pain.

“Can you blame me? Things have been noticeably testosterone-heavy around here lately. When’s the last time any of us saw the inside of a bar, let alone felt the inside of a pussy?” Sway asked. And since he had a point, none of us said anything.

“We’re heading out soon anyway,” Crow said, shrugging. “You can get as much road pussy as Slash will let you stop for.”

“That’s news to me,” I said, wondering how much I’d missed just from being in my room trying to rest or at therapy.

“Yeah. Judge has a lead on a clubhouse location. Slash wants to go check it out before it hits the open market. Shit isn’t lasting long out that way.”

“So Fallon has given you the go-ahead for a new chapter?” I asked, feeling a little disappointed in a way. I’d gotten used to having them around. We’d fought and planned and partied side-by-side for a long time. It was easy to forget that the plan had always been for them to leave.

“Yeah. We just wanted to stay on to wrap up the case on who shot us,” Crow said, motioning with his coffee mug between the two of us. “Soon as we get that squared away, we are hitting the road.”

“Where about is the possible new clubhouse?” I asked.

“California,” Sway said.

“Obviously,” I shot back, shaking my head. “But where?”

“Shady Valley,” Crow said. “I like the sound of it.”

“It sounds ominous,” I said.

“It sounds like a good time,” Crow added.

“This guy thinks triple homicides are a rip-roaring good time,” Sway explained, smirking.

“That’s because they are. When’s the last time I got to squeeze someone else’s blood out of my clothes so I didn’t drip evidence everywhere?” Crow asked, pushing at one of his cheek piercings with his tongue.

“I don’t know. That massacre over at Danny’s clubhouse before it became a bar?” Sway suggested.

“It’s been months. Too long,” Crow declared. “I am ready to get my hands dirty again. No offense, but shit is established here. You don’t see as much action as we are going to see when we set up shop.”

“That’s okay with me,” I said, shrugging. “I don’t mind the calm here and there.”

“Hey, so what’s a gift for a woman you once rejected but want back?” Dezi asked.

“A mini cow?” Sway suggested, getting a ‘What’d I tell ya’ motion from Dezi and a surprised laugh from me.

“Yo,” Malcolm called, waving me over. “I’m heading home for a bit. You want me to drop you at your place to check shit out for a bit?”

I’d been letting him handle checking on my place since I’d hurt my back. But I was getting around a little bit better. I could handle it this time.

“Figured you were getting a little cabin fever,” Malc said as we made our way out to his truck.

“I am,” I admitted. “Going to physical therapy hardly counts as getting out.”

That was true.

“You’re going the wrong way,” I mumbled a few minutes later when he turned off the main road.

“Gotta pick up Billie,” he said, shrugging. “She’s bitching that she wants to do yoga in the woods. And that she refuses to live in a ‘police state’ and… a bunch of other shit about having guards watching her. So, I figured since we are heading in that direction anyway, we can kill two birds.”

Not since I was on my first date as a fucking teenager did I get nervous about seeing a woman. But there was no denying the fluttering sensation in my stomach, or the way my chest felt tight and my palms sweaty as we pulled up to Billie’s complex.

I was nervous to see her.

But I wouldn’t have to wait long. As soon as Seth knocked to tell her that Malc was there, she tore out of that apartment building like a bat out of hell, pausing only to raise her face up to the sun, eyes closed, smile serene. Like she hadn’t seen the sunshine in days.

There was a brief pause to go into her van to grab her yoga mat, before she was bouncing over toward the truck.

It wasn’t until she saw me in the passenger seat that she stopped, her head jerking back, as surprised to see me as I was to know we were picking her up.

A tentative smile that didn’t reach her eyes spread on her face as she made her way toward Malc’s side of the car to get into the back.

“Hey guys. Thanks for jailbreaking me. Seth spent the morning muttering off stalker statistics for shits and giggles. I needed a break.”

“Happy to oblige. No one will fuck with you in the woods. I know you don’t like anyone being around, but I will leave the dogs with you. And stay nearby.”

“Sounds good.”

She did not speak to me. Not for the whole ride. Not even to ask how I’d been. And I couldn’t help but wonder if she’d lost whatever softness toward me that had her covering me with a blanket. Especially now that she’d been on lockdown because of my ‘overreaction’ to the boxes.

Judging by the way all the guys in the club talked about the boxes, it was clear she was the one under-reacting. Hell, even Chris had been furious when she’d come down from Hailstorm to see the evidence. And that woman had not only seen, but experienced, the worst the world had to offer.

Malc dropped me off right in front of the trees that blocked my family house from view, leaving me with my conflicting feelings about Billie, and her coolness toward me as I made my way up the gravel drive that was in desperate need of some fresh gravel to flush it out and keep the weeds at bay.

From there, I went about checking the house over, doing some light dusting, tossing all the shit from the fridge and breadbox.

Everything was fine.

Until my dumb ass decided to try to lift said bags of spoiled garbage up and into the bin outside.

I saw fucking stars.

The pain shot up my spine to my brain and then down my leg as well, leaving me dropped down on my knee, cursing through the pain.

After about five minutes before a giant, wet nose was nudging itself into my sweaty face, huffing its hot breath on my skin.

“Tommy, what in the…oh!” Billie called, chasing off after the dog who must have heard my distress. “Are you okay?” Billie called, rushing up beside me, gently nudging the giant beast of a dog out of the way to allow her to kneel down at my side. “What happened?”

“Tried to throw out the trash,” I admitted, squeezing my eyes shut, more embarrassed than I should have been over the admission. It wasn’t like it was my fault my back was fucked up. It didn’t make me less of a man because I needed some time to recover. But even though I knew all of that, it made me feel weak to admit that I couldn’t handle my basic fucking life shit without assistance.

“Stubborn man,” Billie grumbled, and I was acutely aware of her hand grabbing my forearm just under my elbow. “Come on. Let’s get up. This isn’t a good position. We need to get you inside and off your feet for a few minutes.”

With that, I let her help me to my feet as I hissed and cursed my way through the movement.

“Sorry,” I said, taking a deep breath.

“For cursing?” she asked. “I attend a regular cursing yoga class. You don’t need to apologize. So this is the home you needed to save badly enough to join the MC?” she asked, looking at the front as we approached.

It wasn’t a grand structure by any means. But it was slightly larger than the place Malc had that he needed to renovate when they started adding kids to his new family.

It was a two-story structure—the top floor smaller than the lower—with a wrap-around, oversized porch and the same light yellow paint color my grandmother and I had lovingly applied when I was a boy. I repainted it every couple of years in her honor. Just like I kept the hand-carved rocking chairs and swing on the front porch I’d inherited from my grandfather.

“This is it,” I agreed as Billie took a bit more of my weight as I struggled to get up the very low front steps that led up to the front porch.

“It’s absolutely perfect,” she declared, leading me in through the front door I’d left open.

The inside of the house had seen a little work over the years, but the original charm was still there.

“Oh, a hearth kitchen,” Billie said, stopping and staring at the kitchen that was open to the rest of the floor plan of the lower level. It separated from the living and dining areas with a large L-shaped wrap-around island made of a warm wood with a butcher block top that I’d installed since my father had somehow managed to put a massive crack in the old granite one.

The cabinets behind the island were the same warm wood and the appliances had all been replaced since I moved in so there was an industrial-sized stainless steel eight-burner stove and large fridge with a lower freezer to match.

“That sink is almost big enough to bathe in,” Billie declared, looking at the farmhouse-style deep porcelain sink. “Here we go,” she said, helping to lower me down on the sectional that faced the stone fireplace. “Do you want any pillows for propping?” she asked.

“I think I’m alright. It’s easing up now that I’m off my feet.”

“Good. Alright. I will go take the trash out,” she said, turning to walk away.

“No. You don’t need to do that.”

“Well, you could try again. See if you can screw up your back for the rest of your life. Or, option two, we can just leave it there to attract the bears. Or, option three, for the less stubborn-ass sorts of men… we can let me do it.”

“I guess we have to go with option three,” I said, shrugging. “Thank you,” I added as she made her way back outside. “What’s up, man?” I asked as Tommy came in to sit and stare at me. “You need my gratitude?” I asked, reaching out to pat his dinner plate sized head. “Thank you. You’re a good dog.”

“He is,” Billie agreed, coming back in with Chuckie at her heels. “He must have heard you because he head-butted me so hard I fell out of my asana, and then kept nudging me until I got up to follow him. He cried the whole way over.”

“Malc doesn’t know how often they come to visit me when they roam. They can smell it when I grill, and make a beeline for my property to ask to be invited for dinner.”

“You better let them stay for dinner,” she said, tone something like a warning, like she’d have consequences for me if I didn’t tell her I did.

“Of course they stay for dinner. Sometimes, they eat all of dinner,” I added, looking at the size of the mastiffs.

“They can’t help it. They’re the biggest boys,” she said, adopting a cute-animal-voice as she rubbed Chuckie’s head with both hands, making his jowls move up and down. “Isn’t that right? It’s not your fault you have big bellies that need big dinners, is it? What?” she asked, looking up to find my gaze on her.

“I guess I didn’t peg you as an animal person,” I said.

“What? Of course I’m an animal person. Why do you think I don’t eat them?”

“I dunno. Figured it was a health thing.”

“I mean, sure. But no. It was a moral thing back when I was a teen and saw a documentary about factory farms. I love animals. I just couldn’t find an apartment that would let me have one that was over fifty pounds. And while little dogs are cute and all, I want a big hunk of a dog to cuddle up with at night,” she said, leaning down to kiss Chuckie’s head.

He was eating the attention up.

I couldn’t blame him.

“I actually might be just as bad as my Aunt Andi about wanting animals. It’s why I never go anywhere near a pet store on the weekends when they do the adoption drives. I would be too tempted to get one and dress it up as a human being or something,” she said with a smile, rolling her eyes at herself. “Do you have your phone?”

“Yeah, why?” I asked, reaching for it, only to have her snatch it out of my hand. “Hey,” I objected, trying to take it back.

“What? Have a bunch of pictures of your junk on here?” she asked, shaking her head. “I need to call Malc, so he doesn’t worry,” she told me, finding his number, and putting my phone to her ear as she walked away from me.

“Hey, Big Guy. I didn’t want you to worry. The hounds must have heard Rowe trying to be a stubborn-ass who doesn’t need any help. He hurt his back taking out the trash. I know! I know. That’s what I said. Anyway, I got him inside and he’s resting. I am going to finish helping him clean out his kitchen. No, no it’s fine. Spend some time with your girl. Hold on, I’ll ask,” she said, leaning over the island to catch my eye. “Malc wants to know if you’re armed.”

“Always.”

“He says he is. And we have the savage beasts with us as well,” she said, even though one of the savage beasts had weaseled his way up onto the couch, doing it slowly as if I wouldn’t notice if he did it at a glacial pace. The other was eating one of my shoes. They looked real ferocious, let me tell you. “Okay. Will do. Absolutely.”

“Malc said to tell you to stop being an idiot,” she told me, holding out my phone. “I am going to go scrub your fridge.”

“What? No.”

“Do you really think you would be able to stop me in your current state?” she asked, lips twitching before she turned and made her way back toward the kitchen.

And me?

Well, maybe I needed to get myself fully up on the sectional. For comfort. Not to watch her as she bounced around my kitchen, getting to know it, cleaning it like it belonged to her.

And, God, something about it just felt right.

A beautiful, kind, nurturing, wild woman in my house. A couple of giant dogs. The peace and quiet from the woods around us.

It was all just… right.

And then, as if it wasn’t confusing enough, she dug out what was useful in my fridge and freezer, as well as some canned goods, and started chopping shit up.

“What are you doing?”

“You have just enough of an array of things to make some Kitchen Sink Soup.”

“Kitchen Sink Soup?” I asked, confused.

“My Uncle Laz made it all the time when we were growing up. It has everything ‘but the kitchen sink’ in it. And even though the ingredients are always different, it always comes out great,” she told me as she emptied a can of corn into the pot she had put on the stove.

Twenty minutes later, the rich smells of soup were filling the air, and Billie was looking around the kitchen with her hands on her hips, trying to figure out what to do next.

“Billie,” I called, watching as her head snapped over.

“Yeah?” she asked, brows pinching at whatever it was that she found on my face.

“Come over here,” I demanded, voice soft.

She didn’t ask why, she just moved around the island and over into the living room as Tommy climbed off of the couch with an obnoxiously dramatic yawn before walking off to go explore the house. And likely find my empty bed to sprawl out on.

“Are you okay?” she asked, eyes concerned when she got to my side.

That concern switched to confusion, though, as my arm lifted, and my hand grabbed her wrist, pulling.

“What…” she started as I kept pulling, giving her no choice but to start leaning forward until her knee met the side of the couch. “I don’t w—“

“Yes, you do,” I corrected, drawing her down until my hands could grab her hips, pulling her to straddle me. Which she did. But her back was ramrod straight. Her eyes were guarded and wary, something that made regret pierce my gut. Because I’d put that look there.

“You said—“ she started again.

“I lied,” I told her as my hand settled at the side of her neck. “I lied, Billie. I’ve always wanted you.”