Outlaw (Evil Dead MC 1)

“Hmm. How ‘bout that. Lied straight to my face.” He smiled at her. “Wonder why she did that?” he asked, knowing the answer. “She must think I like pie.” He shoved another forkful in his mouth. “Hmm. Yum.”

Angel rolled her eyes.

“Does she do that with all the men you bring home?”

“All the men?” she repeated.

“You know what I mean. Your dates.” He took another bite of pie.

“Dates? Who has time?”

“Come on. There have to be men coming around you like bees to honey.”

She shrugged. “A few.”

He nodded. “Anyone serious?”

“There was. Not anymore.”

“What happened?” Cole murmured, not liking the troubled expression that had crept into her eyes. And really not liking that there had been someone serious.

“He couldn’t handle it. My having a sick child.”

Cole looked at her and nodded. Then trying to lighten the mood, he grinned and said, “You should have told him to ‘Cowboy up’.”

She laughed and shook her head.

“He was the wrong man for you anyway.” Cole shoved another forkful of pie in his mouth.

Angel huffed out a breath. “How would you know?”

“Because he wasn’t me, babe.” He smiled at her with a mouthful of pie. “Did I tell you this is really good pie?”

***

That night, Cole lie on the bed in the guestroom, the small bedside lamp burning. It was near midnight, but sleep eluded him. His shirt was off, and his jeans were unzipped. He had opened the sliding glass door that led out to the patio to let some cool night air in. He lay smoking a cigarette, staring at the ceiling, soft music playing on the stereo.

He heard a tap at the door and glanced at it. He put his cigarette out and got up, zipping up his jeans as he crossed to the door. He opened it, and there stood Angel wearing an old football jersey that fell to her thigh. She had her arms crossed over her chest.

Cole leaned against the doorframe and smiled down at her. “If I’m dreaming, don’t wake me up.”

“I… I saw your light on. Can I come in?”

“Yeah. Sure,” he said softly and stepped back.

She moved into the room.

He closed the door with a soft click, his eyes studying her. “Cute outfit.”

She looked down. “The jersey? I’ve had it since high school.”

“Dated a football player, huh?”

“Yeah.” She smiled, walking farther into the room. His wallet, keys, helmet, and riding glasses were lying on top of the low dresser, along with the handgun he was never far from. Her hand skimmed over them, lightly touching each item.

He watched her silently.

She turned back to face him. Seeing the questioning look on his face, she searched for something to say. “Are you nervous about tomorrow?”

He looked away and blew out a breath, shrugging.

Angel knew he wouldn’t admit it if he was. “You don’t have to be, you know. They’ll put you under. Then after it’s over, you’ll have some soreness in your lower back, some tiredness and—”

He cut her off. “I know. They explained it all to me at the facility in California.”

She nodded. “Good.”

Cole looked at her, wondering if hospital details was why she’d really come to his room. Hoping it wasn’t.

“So, you know you may not be able to ride for a week or two. But we’ll take good care of you until you’re—” She broke off as he approached her slowly.

“You’ll be my own personal nurse?” He smiled. “Does that include sponge baths, darlin’?”

She looked away, unable to meet the look in his eyes. Afraid he would see what his nearness was doing to her. “I hardly think that will be necessary.”

“I guess we’ll just have to see how I do.”

She looked back to the things on the dresser and began to fiddle with them. “I…I just wanted to thank you again for what you’re going to do for us tomorrow.”

“She’s my daughter, too, Angel. You don’t have to thank me for anything. It’s what I’m supposed to do. What I want to do.”

She nodded, looking down. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound—”