Page 12 of Rafe: Sins of the Father

“You. Come with me.” He jabs his finger at my chest, then turns on his heel and strides away.

I exchange a glance with Bubba, yanking my gloves back on.

Bubba makes a deep-throated chuckle. “Have fun.”

“Right.”

I follow and find our foreman standing next to the mound of woodchips and sawdust at the end of one of the sawmills.

“Here.” He holds a shovel out to me. “Clean this up.”

With that, he strides away.

Another shit job. More payback for yesterday. No, it’s more than that. The man has had it out for me since the day I started, and I’ve yet to figure it out. All I can come up with is the motorcycle I ride and the cut I put on when I ride out of here each evening.

Sawyer knows about the club, and he doesn’t give a shit, so I’m not sure why this asshole cares. I haven’t caused a bit of trouble since I started.

I’m halfway through the pile when Bubba trudges behind our foreman, following him to the next saw.

Thompson hands him a shovel. “Get to work.”

Once the foreman leaves, Bubba glares at me. “What’s his problem? I ain’t done nothin’.”

“You were my alibi. He didn’t like it.”

“He’s a fucking asshole.”

We work silently, both lost in our own thoughts.

I stare up at the big white house on the hill and think I catch the girl on an upper small balcony surrounded with intricately carved wood. The place, with its Victorian architecture, dates from 1890. There’s even a plaque out on the road proclaiming it, but I don’t give a damn about that. It’s the girl who has captured my attention.

I can stop thinking about the fright and distaste on her face when we first laid eyes on each other. Bent over that squad car, my wrists cuffed behind me, I felt something I’ve never felt in all the years I’ve been in the MC. I felt scorched with shame to have this stranger—this girl—see me like that.

Then the anger took over. She didn’t know a damn thing about me, and yet she stared at me wide-eyed, like I was an animal.

It never bothered me before—what people thought of me.

Until now.

Until this girl looked at me like that with those dark blue eyes that took me completely by surprise. Something shot through me when our gazes locked. Something epic, something like… destiny.

CHAPTER THREE

Tori—

The room is dark when I roll over and look at the clock, yawning. My alarm isn’t set until two hours from now, so what woke me up? I frown. I heard a noise. That’s what woke me, but what was it? Then I hear it through my open bedroom window—that softputt puttsound. Sitting straight up, I know what it was.

A motorcycle.

I dash to the balcony. My heart racing at the sound of that motorcycle. His motorcycle. I can’t get him out of my mind.

The rider backs into a spot against the metal shed down at the mill and climbs from his bike. Even from this distance, I can tell it's him—Rafe, the man I first saw wearing handcuffs.

He removes his leather vest, one that has patches on the back, but I’m too far away to read. He squats and folds it, tucking it in his saddlebag.

As he walks across the gravel lot, his shoulders move in a sexy sway with his gait, rolling like a big cat stalking his prey. He’s got the sexiest walk I’ve ever seen on a man. His movements ooze confidence, and even the men who have been here probably for decades longer seem to give way to him, stepping out of his path and nodding as he passes, almost as if he’s the boss. But that’s silly, because from what Father said, he’s been here less than a month.

The sun is barely peeking through the trees over the horizon, and everything is washed in a pale blue shadow.

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