Page 82 of Thornhill Road

“Be back in a bit,” he muttered against my lips.

“’Kay,” I whispered before I watched him leave.

No sooner had the door shut behind him than Andy asked, “He’s in a motorcycle club? And why do I get the feeling that thewildprinted on the back of his vest is some indication the club he belongs to isn’t merely recreational?”

I didn’t get a chance to respond before Mustang’s Harley revved to life, the rumble of his engine bouncing loudly off the walls of his garage.

“Seriously, Tess?”

“Andy, I love you, and I admire the hell out of you—but I’m a big girl, and I don’t need you to protect me.”

“You met this guy how long ago? And you’re already here playing house with him. You do this, sis. You do it every time. And every time—”

“Mustang’s different,” I interrupted.

Andy pressed his lips together and tilted his chin skeptically. The look in his eyes was more communicative than any words he could say. He didn’t trust Mustang. They’d spent barely twenty minutes in the same room, and he’d already decided I was making a mistake.

“I love him, Andy.”

He looked at me like he thought I’d lost my mind. “I talked to you three weeks ago, you never even mentioned him.”

I nodded. He was not wrong. Though, I wasn’t going to tell him how right he was.

“I understand your skepticism, given my track record. I’ll let you have that. But in return, I need you to give him a chance. There’s more to him than meets the eye. I mean, look around you. He’s not some loser living in a drug-riddled shit hole.

“Yes, he is a Wild Stallion, but he’s also a business owner, and a dad. And you know what else? Idoget like this, every time—and every time the guy bails, but he hasn’t. He’s different, Andy. I mean it.”

My brother stared at me, and I could see the wheels in his head turning. He couldn’t deny I had a point, not after he’d just eaten the breakfast my man made us and saw the way he’d kissed me before he left.

“I’m happy,” I assured him. “I’m even happier now that you’re here. Don’t spoil it.”

He hesitated then dipped his chin in agreement. We’d both endured enough loss that we knew the fickle nature of happiness, and we loved each other too much to rip it away from each other.

I closed the distance between us and wrapped my arms around his middle, resting my head on his shoulder. “I don’t need you to protect me, but I love you for wanting to.”

He grunted in response, and I smiled.

Looking up at him, I suggested, “Come with me to Steel Mustang. That’s the name of his bar. We can go tomorrow night. Saturdays are when he brings in the best bands. He’d never say it, but around here—he’s kind of a big deal.”

“Okay, okay, alright,” he chuckled. “If I say yes, will you stop gushing over the guy?”

My smile turned into a grin.

“No promises, but I’ll try.”

One Week Later

In the span ofa month, I had become a Saturday night Steel Mustang regular.

The week prior had gone down in the books as a win.

Andy had indulged me, and we went together. As I suspected, it didn’t take him long to admit the bar was awesome because the music was great. I convinced him to let me be his designated driver, and he cut loose enough to get a little drunk.

It was a blast.

When he left the next day, he and Mustang weren’t besties, but there was a new level of respect there. I hoped, given time, that respect would grow into friendship.

Now, as was my new weekly ritual, I was getting ready to go out.

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