His Property (Iron Bandits MC)

Yeah, I was totally screwed.

Unfortunately, that would not be in the literal sense.

Suddenly, he was snapping his fingers in front of my face. “Yo, babe, you here? You listening?”

Oh jeez. I had completely zoned out into my thoughts. This happened sometimes. I blamed lack of sleep.

I tried to swat his hand away, but he was fast. I ended up looking even more ridiculous. So, naturally, I blushed again.

And again, he noticed. He stepped close enough to dip his head and whisper in my ear, “You gotta pay attention, babe. I get that you want me—hell, I want you, too—but let’s deal with first things first, yeah?”

Damn, he smelled good. And Oh. My. God. Did he…?—He did not just say that. My jaw dropped and I blushed even deeper. By now I was cooked lobster. At the same time, I was desperately memorizing the moment. He just said he wanted me, too. Right? Right? He said that! So maybe…

NO! Terminate operations, Ellie! Gah, this was not supposed to happen. I forced myself to control my face, control my breath, and step away from the hot man.

Thankfully, I had Peter to use as a distractive device. I knew I was a horrible mother. Good mothers don’t use their babies as props. But my sweet little Petey was sleeping—he would never know.

So I turned to where Jack had put the Moses basket on the floor, and single-handedly dug through my shoulder bag for a couple extra small blankets to line it with, before carefully setting Peter inside, snug as a bug. He was breathing normally and his color looked good. Satisfied, I finally turned my attention back to Jack, who had been patiently watching me deal with the baby. When I looked up at Jack’s face, he appeared pensive.

“Okay. I am going to go pick up a phone for you. I’ll bring it back, then I gotta get my ass back to the shop. Don’t plan on leaving the house for most of the day. I want you here when I get home. Don’t mess up my shit, but, uh, make yourself comfortable, and all that. You need anything before I go?”

I shook my head. I had everything I’d need for Peter and myself in the bag or in the car.

“I’m off. Be back with the phone. You got a preference?”

Again, I shook my head. “Just don’t spend a lot of money. I don’t know when I’ll be able to pay you back.”

“Woman, I’m paying for it. I told you that. Open your ears and catch up. This one is on me.”

How did he manage to be so generous and sound so mean at the same time? This man rattled me.

“Okay. Thank you.”

He looked at me a moment, then just said, “Yeah.” And he left.

Ooookaaay.

I took another quick tour of the house, just getting my bearings with bathrooms, closets, and living spaces, then set myself to work. I refused to be a free-loader, so I began with a search for large trash bags and got to work.

About forty minutes later, I was sorting through the laundry, making piles in the living room, when Jack came back with a plastic bag. He looked around bemusedly, as though surprised to see actual furniture and tabletops there, and a corner of his lips tipped back, but he didn’t speak to it. He didn’t even say, “Thanks.” Which kinda ticked me off, but at the same time, he was the one doing me the huge favor, so I gave him a pass for this lack of consideration—this time.

He tossed the phone company bag on top of the laundry pile in front of me and said, “You’re all set. You gotta plug in and charge up the phone first before it’ll work right, so do that now. When I get back later, we’ll hook you up with numbers so you’ll be good to go. For now, I’m at the shop, rest of the day. You got the house phone here. Shop number’s programmed in, just hold down the five. Questions?”

I shook my head, and he was gone again, as quickly as he had come in.

I opened up the bag Jack had tossed down for me and discovered the newest model of the smartphone I had been eyeballing for years. These things cost hundreds of dollars, and Jack had bought it for me like it was nothing. I could feel the tears begin to build up again, but forced them down as a silly, hormonal reaction to his kindness.

After plugging the phone into the wall charger, I went back to the laundry, and the cleaning, and then digging through the kitchen to cook something for dinner. Finding nothing there, I wiped down the counters one last time, then removed myself to my room to check on my boy.

I finally—finally—felt like we would be all right.