Jack (The Kings of Mayhem MC Tennessee 1)

If I had the time over, I wouldn’t have hesitated to bring it up and let him know that whatever his choices were in life, I had his back.

“Did he tell you?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“Good.” It’s great he had Bronte to talk to. I only wished he’d felt that way about me too.

“Was there anyone special?”

“There was a guy he was getting close to. Brett, I think his name was. He came to the funeral.”

I can’t remember much of the funeral. It’s all a big blur. Elvis could’ve shown up, and I wouldn’t have noticed.

My chest aches.

After dinner, we take our beers and takeout containers inside. Bronte doesn’t seem interested in leaving, so I suggest watching a movie and downing a few more beers. Despite the fatigue of the day, I’m not ready for the night to end either.

“Got any popcorn?” she asks.

Rummaging in my kitchen cupboard, I find an old box of corn kernels.

“How strong is your stomach? These are probably two years out of date.”

She grins and lifts her tank top to reveal a golden stomach that is as flat as a pancake with a diamond ring winking in her belly button.

Sweet baby Jesus.

“I can stomach anything,” she says, laying down on the couch. “Salmonella come at me.”

After popping the corn in the microwave and covering it with enough butter and salt to harden every artery, I join her on the couch.

“Ever seen Braveheart?” I ask, bringing up Netflix.

“Brave who?”

“Braveheart. It’s a Mel Gibson movie.”

“What’s it about?”

“It’s set in Scotland. Based on William Wallace.”

“It’s a true story? Because I’m not big on historical shows.”

“You’ll like this. They’re Highlanders. It’s about their fight to free Scotland from the iron hold of the British.”

“Oooh, men in kilts. Bring it on.”

Of course, that’s what she takes away from it.

I hit play and get settled.

From the first frame, she’s engrossed, and by the time I stop thinking about how goddamn good she smells and focus on the screen, I’m engrossed too.

It’s been a long time since I’ve had a female on my couch watching television with me. Hell, it’s been a long time since I’ve had a female in my house, full stop. Because we’re both engrossed in the movie, our conversation is limited, but I am more aware of her presence than ever before.

“Yesss!” she cheers as William Wallace uses a ball and chain to end the life of one of his betrayers. “Take that, you traitor.”

Eyes glued to the television, she digs her hand into the popcorn and brings a handful to her mouth while I relax further into my couch. Being around her is easy. And I’m pleased we’ve spoken about the kiss because I like being with her, and I don’t want any awkwardness between us when we hang out.

“Oh my God!” She gasps when Longshanks throws someone out the castle window. “I did not see that coming. He’s such a bad dude. I don’t like him.” She glances at me. “Good choice in movies. I can’t believe I’ve never watched this before.”

She gets more comfortable, laying on her side with one foot pressed against my thigh and the other on my knee.

“I love William. He’s not afraid to stand up for what he’s afraid of.”

“It doesn’t bother you that he kills people because of it?”

“Not at all.” Her eyes stay glued to the screen as she puts more popcorn into her mouth. “Sometimes you have to behave bad to do good.”

“Even if it’s revenge?”

“Revenge isn’t a good concept, but it’s an extremely powerful motivator. You have to remember… revenge is like crack to the brokenhearted.”

Like you wouldn’t believe, darling.

“Law says it’s wrong.”

My voice is rough because she could be talking about me. Only she doesn’t know that side of me. Doesn’t know how I live in the dark shadows of revenge and bloodletting.

“Law doesn’t always get it right.” She glances at me. “And let’s face it, he isn’t killing good people.”

Warmth fills me, and the minutes seem to fly by.

The next thing I know, she’s crying.

“The look on his face. He feels so betrayed by his friend.” Bronte looks at me, tears rolling down her cheeks. She’s so damn cute. “Why did Robert betray him like that?”

“Because he was weak.”

She stops crying, and her face tightens. “I hope William’s ball and chain catches him in the head, too.”

“Wow, remind me not to get on the wrong side of you. That’s dark, princess.”

One minute, I’m watching Mel Gibson scream “freeeeeedom” and trying not to notice how fucking great Bronte’s legs look in her Daisy Dukes. The next, I’m waking up with her asleep on my lap, her golden arms curled around my thighs. and her thick lashes fanning across her cheek.

Swallowing back a lump in my throat, I tear my eyes away from her full pink lips, telling myself to ignore how plush they are, how glossy and sweet, and how sexy they look when they part with every soft breath passing in and out of them. I squeeze my eyes shut and force back the inking of desire rising in me—the tension coils like a tight spring in my pelvis.