Page 72 of Thornhill Road

Death was part of my job. I was around it often enough, I knew how to handle myself when I lost a patient. It was what happened with Lance that had me feeling off—but I’d handled that, too. I just needed to let it go.

Rather than tell him what I was thinking, I merely said, “Do what you have to, babe. No rush. I’ll probably just grab a shower and crawl into bed, if that’s okay.”

“Bedroom’s not hard to find. Shower’s not hard to operate. You want to watch TV, remote’s either on the dresser or the nightstand.”

“Okay.”

His eyes searched my face before he dropped a hand and squeezed one side of my butt.

I couldn’t help but to smile.

His mouth tipped in a smirk before he said, “See you in a bit, sugar.”

I found Mustang’s housewith little trouble and let myself inside, fumbling for light switches as I moved from one room tothe next. It felt a little bit like snooping, but I poked my head into every room I passed in search of his.

There were five doors down the hallway.

The first was a room, just behind the living area, which Mustang obviously used as a home gym. A Wild Stallions flag hung on one of the walls.

The second led to a bathroom. Like everything else I’d seen, it was clean and functional, but lacking any décor. Though, the shower curtain in there was pink, purple, and teal mermaid print, and Mary-Kate got credit for that.

Across the hallway from the bathroom was a linen closet. Pleased to have stumbled across his collection of towels, I grabbed one and proceeded with my exploration.

The third door to the left was Mary-Kate’s room. I paused a moment to admire it. It really was a room fit for a princess. She had a simple, wooden canopy bed draped with sheer, cream linen across the top and down the sides. Her bedding was a rosy pink, and it matched the printed pink area rug situated in the middle of the room. There were low-hung shelves with books along one wall, and baskets stuffed with playthings along another. Above it, in pink painted wooden letters, her initials had been mounted. It was perfect.

Finally, I passed through the second door on the right side of the hall, knowing it was my final destination. I wasn’t at all surprised to find a simple, masculine room—but I instantly loved it for all that made it different from his room at the clubhouse.

He had a large headboard made of dark, distressed wood. His nightstands and the dresser, which also served as his TV stand across from his bed, looked to match. His bedding was dark gray, and the large rug he had underneath the bed was patterned with beige, gray, and black. On the opposite side of the room from where I stood was a bay window, built into the wall tocreate a sort of bench. I was sure it offered an amazing view, out across his backyard and the horizon beyond.

That’s where I set my overnight bag before I gathered what I needed for a shower. His master bathroom and adjoining closet were behind a sliding farmhouse door and easily twice the size of mine. His shower was awesome, and I let the water beat down on my neck and shoulders for a few minutes before I washed up and got out.

Since I tended to sleep naked with Mustang, I hadn’t packed anything to wear to bed. Not in the mood to be naked in his bed without him, I decided to borrow something from his wardrobe. When I found a faded, black Harley Davidson tee, I knew I need search no further. I slipped into it, turned out the lights, then tucked myself between Mustang’s sheets.

I was drained, but not exhausted, which meant I didn’t crash as soon as my head hit the pillow. I thought about the events of the day—the good and the bad—and where I found myself. Then I remembered the first time I woke to find Mustang in my kitchen cooking me breakfast.

'You take care of people all day. Who’s takin’ care of you?'

He was. He was taking care of me in ways I never imagined a man could.

I’d always hoped I’d find a man who would at least appreciate what I did for a living—to the point that he wouldn’t get upset if a patient called me away in the middle of the night or during a date; a man who understood why sometimes it took me a little longer to get to the grocery store or that I typically couldn’t hit the town with the intention of getting drunk because I couldn’t afford to be inebriated, just in case.

But Mustang didn’t simply understand—he filled my fridge when he thought it looked empty. One time he dug my phone out of my purse and put it on the nightstand when I forgot and passed out after sex. He didn’t get annoyed by my weird sleepingschedule; he worked around it so he could be with me as often as he wanted.

My badass biker was hard on the outside but sweet on the inside.

I wondered then about his mom. I wondered what she’d been like and how she’d loved. I knew Mustang had learned to love by her example, and I wished I could thank her for it.

How she died was still a mystery to me—still a part of the puzzle I hadn’t pieced together. Neither father nor son had volunteered the information, and I wondered if they ever would or if I’d have to extract it myself.

It wasn’t long before I started to doze, drifting in and out of my thoughts. I didn’t hear it when Mustang got home, but I did feel it when he climbed into bed with me.

“Hi,” I whispered into the darkness.

“You good, baby?”

He reached for me, his warm, calloused palm skimming my bare thigh. It made me want to kiss him. Everything about that moment made me want to kiss him—his touch, him asking if I was good, the fact that we were in his bed for the first time—all of it reignited the longing I’d felt when I walked into his bar hours earlier.

I leaned into him, searching for his mouth with my own. When I found it, I answered him with a kiss. Like always, he didn’t disappoint. He reciprocated—deep and wet. Except, rather than completely take over, I could tell he was following my lead. That sent a spark of excitement right through me, turning me on.

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