Hellion (Southern Rebels MC)

“Yeah, he won’t notice we’re gone,” I reassured him. “He loves watching his shows.”

“How long have you had Nico?”

“Awhile,” I answered evasively, my heart jumping in my chest at the completely normal question I should have anticipated. “Can we get my tire fixed?” I hastily changed the subject, not wanting to talk about Nico’s origins.

Noah flashed me a look, but said, “Yeah. We can throw it in the trunk. Crew should be at the shop.”

“Great,” I forced a smile, hoping Noah would forget his question about Nico. “I’m starving.”

“Donuts first then,” he answered easily enough. “Crew would be pissed if I didn’t bring him a dozen.”

It didn’t take long to load the flat tire in the trunk of his car and then we were headed to town. A sports talk show was playing on the radio, but Noah turned the volume down so we could talk. “What was it like growing up all over the country?” He cast me a quick look. “I’ve never been more than a hundred miles from here.”

“I can’t imagine living in one place my whole life,” I admitted, tucking my hands under my legs. Noah noticed and turned the air down in the car. “My mom was my best friend. There was no one else,” I said simply. “We had each other and I didn’t know life could be any different.”

“But you kept traveling?”

There was a deeper question there but he was getting too close to my secrets. I looked out the window of the car suddenly wishing I’d driven my truck instead. “I’m not trying to pry, Cadence.” I bit my lip. “I just want to understand you better.”

“Not exactly.” It wasn’t an answer and I closed my eyes before taking the leap. “After my mom died – I stopped,” I swallowed. “Traveling. I stopped traveling. I wanted to see what normal felt like.”

“Not all it’s cracked up to be?” He asked, striving for a light tone and I attempted a weak smile.

“It was….it was different. Not bad, but Mom was gone, and I didn’t really know how to be that kind of normal.”

“So you hit the road again.” I nodded, resisting the urge to rub my arms, a tell he wouldn’t miss. “At least you’ve got Nico,” he added as we entered the town limits.

“At least I’ve got Nico,” I echoed, trying not to cringe at the sour taste the words left in my mouth. He was my best friend and my biggest risk. I’d do anything to protect him, but he could wind up getting me killed.

“Hey, can you get the donuts?” Noah asked, flipping on his blinker as we passed a giant pink donut sign that read, ‘Town Donuts.’ “I’ll go get the coffee.”

“Sure,” I answered automatically, reaching for the seatbelt. “What do you want?”

“A dozen glazed and a dozen assorted,” he said quickly, ducking his head slightly as he parked the car. “And whatever you want,” he added as I squinted at him. “What?”

“Are you hiding from someone?” I questioned, peering around the parking lot.

“No,” he said, his voice a little high. “No,” he repeated. “I just figured you wanted your coffee.”

“You don’t want to go in the donut shop,” I surmised, grinning when I caught sight of his expression. “What? Did you arrest someone who works there?” He didn’t deny it, but I thought of something else. “Or did you date someone? And it didn’t work out.”

“Both,” he answered, his voice barely audible, and an amused snort escaped me. “Let’s just leave it at they have the best donuts in town, but I’m not really welcome there.”

“And here I thought it was the whole cop and donut thing.” I shook my head. “I guess it is the whole cop and donut thing though.” I laughed to myself as he handed me a twenty. “Am I allowed to eat part of the dozen glazed or do I need to get my own?”

“We can share,” he muttered, pointing to an old relic of a gas station. “Coffee’s over there. Meet you back here?”

“Yep,” I agreed, hopping out of the car, ready to get a gander at the workers behind the counter. “I don’t drink decaf,” I called out to him and he waved his hand at me.

“I don’t think they know what that is,” he replied, automatically checking the street for traffic before crossing. I hustled my way inside the busy donut shop, bouncing on my toes to catch a glimpse behind the counter, but was disappointed to only see a guy taking orders. Somehow I didn’t think that was who Noah dated, but it could be who he arrested, I mused as the line inched forward.

“What can I get you?”

“A dozen assorted and a dozen glazed,” I ordered, my gaze sweeping the glass case. “And a chocolate milk.”

“Shelia, we need more chocolate covered,” the guy shouted and I perked up at the name. Shelia was the one they said Noah was going to marry. A harried woman came from the back, balancing a loaded tray of donuts.