Page 23 of Edge

His face softened. “I know you’ve heard it before, but we’re not like the Mad Dogs. We’re not angels by any means, but we don’t hurt women and children, and we don’t kill people unless we’re defending ourselves or protecting someone else. That’s why I’ve been pestering you since I met you. I wanted to know who hurt you and what I needed to do to make sure they didn’t do it again.”

“That’s…,” I started and reached out to gently squeeze his hand. “Thank you. I didn’t appreciate it then, but I do now.”

“You’re welcome,” he said and placed his other hand on top of mine. “You should let me take you out for dinner.”

“I couldn’t.”

“Oh, come on. You’ve had an eventful afternoon. It’s the least I can do.”

“Okay,” I conceded. “Where are we going?”

“There’s this great little diner on Main Street,” he teased.

“Yeah, I think I’ve heard of it,” I said and started putting on my shoes.

“Do you like hibachi? There’s a really good Japanese steakhouse downtown.”

“I do if it’s real hibachi. I don’t like the fake hibachi.”

He chuckled. “What is fake hibachi?”

“If they serve it with zucchini, mushrooms, and onions, it’s real. If it’s served with broccoli and carrots, it’s fake and usually tastes like Chinese food.”

“This place serves zucchini.”

“Sold. Let’s go,” I said.

When we walked outside, I was surprised to see a truck parked in the driveway. “Where’s your bike?”

“It was raining in Croftridge when I left. Some brothers don’t mind riding in the rain, but I’m not one of them.”

“I’ve never ridden on a motorcycle before.”

He grinned. “We’ll have to change that.” Then he walked to the passenger side of his truck and opened the door for me. I couldn’t recall the last time, if ever, someone had done that for me.

“Thank you,” I said quietly.

Suddenly, I was nervous and couldn’t think of anything to say. Thankfully, Edge didn’t seem to have the same problem and continued to make small talk until we arrived at the restaurant.

After we were seated and placed our orders, Edge looked at me like he wanted to say something but seemed hesitant.

“What? Do I have something on my face?”

He laughed. “No, it’s nothing like that. I’m honestly just curious about you, so if you don’t want to answer, tell me to mind my own business.”

“Okay,” I said slowly.

“When you and Irene came to the clubhouse, you told me you were from Florida, but earlier, you mentioned moving back to Fairbanks. What happened there?”

“Oh,” I sighed. “I told you I was from Florida because I didn’t want you, or anyone, to know I was from Fairbanks for obvious reasons. The truth is, I moved to Florida to live with my grandmother after I graduated from high school. My mother remarried when I was twelve, and I never got along with my stepfather. So, when I was old enough to leave, I did.”

“What made you decide to come back to Fairbanks?”

“It’s a long story that doesn’t have a happy ending. Are you sure you want to hear it?”

“I want to get to know you. If it’s your story, good or bad, I want to hear it.”

I wasn’t ready to admit it, but regardless of how hard I tried to keep him at arm’s length, he was worming his way in.

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