Page 65 of Protector

Angel shook his head. “Nah, that piece of shit would never make it up to the cabin. You stay here and enjoy a weekend off.”

Kate lugged a large suitcase out onto the porch and handed it over to Angel while Wolverine retrieved Dakota’s stuff from inside. I stood, dumbfounded, feeling like the world’s worst mother.

“You don’t want me to go? You’re sure?” I pleaded.

Dakota shook her head. “Nope. We’re good. Bye, Mama.”

Kate sighed dramatically and wrapped an arm around me. “You should be happy. Now, you can clean the whole house without anyone messing it up again.”

“But—”

Angel wrapped me up in a bear hug, whispering, “Ain’t one thing gonna happen to either of them on my watch. You deserve a weekend. Don’t fuckin’ clean. Don’t lift a goddamn finger. Just relax.”

I nodded and watched as they climbed in and drove off, unable to shake the feeling that there was something they weren’t telling me.

The house seemed too quiet without the sounds of the girls’ bickering. I paced from room to room, picking up stray hair ties and socks while wondering if maybe I’d been too hard on them. The trip had obviously been a way for them to get away from me.

Why else would they have left on Easter weekend?

I was so caught up in second-guessing my every parenting decision that I almost missed the knock at the door.

“Oh, thank the saints,” I muttered, all but racing to answer. It was an early April Fool’s Day joke. Dakota had been plotting ways to trick me for weeks now, but I hadn’t ever imagined she’d go as far as a fake trip.

My hand fell uselessly from the doorknob when I opened it, because it wasn’t the girls.

It was Jamie.

Or someone who used to be Jamie.

His long, dark blond hair was gone. There was just a little bit of length left on the top, but the sides had been trimmed above his ears. The beard that had always been a wiry mess was now cut and groomed to perfection, but that wasn’t what had my knees buckling beneath me.

My biker was wearing a suit.

The man who’d insisted on a leather vest and jeans for our wedding was standing before me in a light gray suit and tie. I’d grown up around men in suits, and while Jamie’s wasn’t custom, it molded around his muscles perfectly.

It was like looking at a stranger.

He thrust a bouquet of Indian paintbrush flowers into my hands with a nervous smile. “Hey, Celia.”

“You got a haircut,” I responded dumbly.

He scratched at his jaw, the grin on his face widening. “I did. Like to take you out, if you’re free.”

I blinked slowly, expecting to wake up at any moment. This wasn’t real. Instead of pinching myself, I prayed that I’d be able to stay in the moment forever.

“You know,” I bit down on my lower lip with a grin. “My schedule is suddenly wide open. Would you happen to know anything about that?”

“Not a fuckin’ clue,” he smirked. “I, uh, I got my bike out front.” He gestured toward the driveway behind him.

I tried to hide my excitement and fear with a casual nod. I’d never been on his bike. By the time we’d decided on a relationship, I was pregnant with Kate. From there, our lives had gone in separate directions, and any alone time we had was reserved for one thing.

He reached for my hand and carefully led me down the steps as the neighbor sitting on his porch across the street lowered his newspaper to watch. I doubted they’d recognize him. I barely did. I hiked up my dress, and he helped me onto the back of the bike before leaning down until his mouth brushed against the shell of my ear. “Fuckin’ love your dress, princess.”

I fought against the quiver in my thighs and gripped the metal beneath my seat. He took the flowers and tucked them into the saddlebag before climbing on. My body instinctively moved down the hard leather seat to his back. Keeping my dress bunched up in my lap, I wrapped my arms around his waist and held on as the bike fired up with a rumble.

Vibrations moved straight through my core, and I clenched my legs around him with a muffled groan as he pulled out onto the street.

The wind in my face almost stole my breath as it lifted the hair off my shoulders, whipping it wildly around my face. I squeezed my eyes shut against the stinging slap with a manic grin.

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