Page 20 of Legacy

Sex.

Drugs.

Reckless abandon.

But at every turn, my assumptions are challenged.

“We’re two houses down if you ever need anything.” Tempe juts her thumb over her shoulder. “I know this place can be a lot to get used to, but I’m here to help.”

“I’ll try not to be a bother.”

“You wouldn’t be.” Her words are genuine. “Really. We all know how hard it’s been on Legacy since Margaret got sick. If there’s anything we can do, please let us know.”

“Thank you.” I take another sip, fighting the burning in my throat.

While I’ve been worried that Margaret has been in Las Vegas, struggling to battle cancer on her own, she’s had people caring for her this whole time. The club—whether I understand them or not—has looked out for my family. I’ll always owe them for that.

Down the hallway, I hear the front door open and close. Bea doesn’t run for it this time because she’s too distracted with Austin upstairs, but I assume it’s her father since Margaret is in bed.

Footsteps sound down the hallway, and when Jesse rounds the corner, he manages to look even grumpier than he was when he left this morning. His expression is worn, and his hair is messy from the stressed drag of his fingers through it—like he’s doing right now as he meets my gaze across the kitchen.

I take a sip of my drink, wishing it could cool what heats inside me at this man’s presence.

He’s wearing the thinnest white T-shirt beneath his cut—I think he called it?Between his strong jawline and thick muscles, I swear he belongs on billboards instead of in a motorcycle club. Although, the thought of those thick thighs and strong legs riding a motorcycle isn’t so bad to imagine either.

Jesse clears his throat, and I realize I’m staring at his thighs like a woman obsessed.

My gaze snaps to his, and I hope he doesn’t notice how hot my cheeks feel. Especially when his stare falls to the drink in my hand.

“It’s virgin.” I hold up my glass. “Almost… There’s less than a quarter of a shot in it. I’m not drinking on the job or anything.”

I set the glass down, sounding like a bumbling fool trying to explain myself.

“Okay.” There’s a flash of amusement in his eyes—in his tone—as he scans the three of us, and it catches me off guard. “Ladies.”

Luna and Tempe are holding back giggles as they take sips, trying to hide their smiles.

“The kids are playing.” I point to the ceiling just as a thump and a chorus of giggles echoes down the stairs. "And I started a crockpot of meatballs for dinner. Saw you had rolls, so I figured we could have subs. Hopefully, that works for you.”

“You don’t need to cook me dinner.”

“Technically, I didn’t know you’d even be here for dinner since you barely responded to my text today. So, it’s for Bea. But there’s plenty if you want some.”

Amusement has vanished from both our expressions as we stare each other down. He refuses to crack, while I refuse to let his sour mood affect me.

A standoff of wills. Neither of us actually getting anywhere with the other.

“Want a margarita?” Luna holds up the mix, smiling, like anything can break the tension filling the room.

“No thanks,” Jesse answers her but doesn’t take his eyes off me. “I’ve got this now if you have anything you need to do or somewhere to be.”

“I’m good.” I shrug, leaning on the counter and not missing that his gaze ever so briefly drops to my chest. “Bea’s good. We’re all set if you need to shower, nap, or whatever.”

“I don’t—”

“Need anything?” I interrupt him. “Don’t worry, I know. Butyou’re welcomeanyway.”

At my right, I hear Luna holding back a giggle, while Tempe takes a wide-eyed sip of her drink.

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