Page 31 of My Undead Heart
“Building on the left.” She releases one arm from around my waist to point and I follow her directions until my bike rolls to a stop. She’s been quiet this entire ride and I can only hope that means she didn’t completely hate it. Lots of girls think riding on the back of a motorcycle is cool. But experience has shown the majority of those women are in their early twenties and only want to get in my bed. Mia’s neither, and I could sense her hesitation back at the gym. She’s a feisty one, though, so I knew she wouldn’t back down from the challenge.
Cutting the motor, I pull in between two parked cars and drop my feet.
She climbs off my bike and steps to the curb. In those jeans and boots, taking the helmet from her head she has no fucking clue how badass and sexy she looks. “Here, you can have this back.”
“Thank you.” I hold the helmet in my hand and cut the engine, unwilling to say good night just yet. “Two new experiences in one day. I’m proud of you, Mia.” I wink.
Her spine straightens and she fiddles with the strap of her bag, not quite meeting my gaze. “You don’t know me enough to say something like that.”
“I’m getting to know you, and already I’m impressed. Self-defense. Motorcycles. On your way to being a regular badass.” My chuckle earns a slight smile from her.
She shakes her head. “I didn’t do it to impress you or anyone else.”
“Exactly.” My smile grows wider at her feisty reply.
“But maybe I should go get a tattoo tonight since I’m on a roll.”
“Say the word and I’ll be your chariot.”
She laughs and takes a few steps away. “Good night, Matt.”
“Need me to walk you up to your apartment?”
“I’m good,” she says but doesn’t make a move to go inside. Almost as if she’s waiting for me to leave first. Guarded. That’s how she comes across, which only spikes my interest to discover why she holds up such an iron front.
“Good night, Mia.”
“Thanks again. And I’ll have time this weekend to go over my ideas for your website. Sorry it won’t be sooner.” She steps backward, closer to the door than the curb. Inside I can see the security desk. This building is nice, one I sure as hell can’t afford. I’m sure it costs a pretty penny to live here, but it does provide a level of comfort knowing not just anyone can come inside the building without going unnoticed.
I shake my head. “It’s fine. I’m getting the better end of this deal. I want to be fair. There’s no rush.”
“Okay, well, then ...” She takes a few more steps back.
“Good night.” I grin and with a tap the engine roars to life.
“Good night.” She waves, and if I’m not mistaken I catch the trace of a smile on her lips before she steps inside her building. I don’t stick around to find out though, pulling back on the throttle and letting out the clutch to zoom out into the empty street.
Backtracking the same route I just traveled, I make it to my apartment building well past midnight. Worth it. I knew she’d never let me offer to take her home had she known how out of the way she was. But the forced ride time is soothing to the constant running of to-do lists and worries that race through my mind, and I’m thankful for the short reprieve. Good for my mental health. I need to carve out more time on my bike when it’s not all about getting from point A to B.
I pull into the side lot, more than ready to pass out the moment my head hits my pillow. But when I glance up and see the shadow sitting outside my apartment door, I realize the universe has other plans. I cut the engine and my father leisurely stands and leans against the third floor railing.
It’s never easy when it comes to him, and I brace myself for whatever mood he’s in tonight. My boots fall heavily with each step but I force myself to jog up the stairwell until I reach him. With anything in life, it’s better to rip the Band-Aid than pull it off slowly.
“Pop.” I dip my chin and keep my tone neutral.
He nods. “Son.”
He doesn’t make a move or speak. I don’t have all night to stand out here and stare at each other. “It’s a little late for a visit. What do you need?”
“I haven’t seen my son in a while. I can’t just stop by?”
I repress the scoff in my throat. “How long you been waiting?”
“A bit. You gonna invite your old man in?” His eyes lock with mine for a stare down, neither of us willing to relent. The air charges with his question. I don’t want to. I don’t want to feel as though I owe him anything but still ... he’s my father.
“By all means.” I slide the key into the deadbolt and step inside first, holding the door for him to follow. Dropping my stuff on the floor next to the door, I flip on the lights and walk into the kitchen. “You want a drink?”
He follows and leans against the cheap Formica countertop. With a lift of his brow he glances around my bare bones apartment. “You got anything good?”
