Page 99 of The Heart We Guard
I burst out laughing. I can’t help it. “Honestly, you shouldn’t be saying anything about my love life.”
“Please,” Wade says. “Isn’t that what best friends do?”
“No. And shut up.”
“Okay, hit me with the cons, because that was seven pros and I only asked for five, you serial overachiever.”
“While he makes me feel safe, his proximity to his world does not. He’s the president. That has to make him a target, even if that’s law enforcement rather than club enemies.”
“Play this out, though—wouldn’t you be getting closer to that world if you start your mobile clinic?”
I think about the question, for a moment. “Yes, but it’s not the same. I’m not so naive to say no one would ever hurt a doctor. But the intention is different. I’m not doing anything illegal. And, as an aside, I’ve already thought about getting armed security for nighttime runs. Private security.”
“Is that the only con, the world he’s in?”
“Yes.” It’s the only one I can think of. I could make a good life here. I even like the bones of Butcher’s home and suddenly feel inspired to renovate and decorate to create something worthy ofthe view. I even realized how judgmental I can be and want to work on being friends with the women I’ve met.
“Then, ask him to quit.”
“I can’t ask Nolan to quit. He’s a biker to his core.”
“But is that what you need from him to feel safe? You can’t be in a relationship with someone if you’re fearful, Greer. And if it’s a case of walking away because of what he does, or asking him if there’s even a possibility he’d consider it for you, you know which you should do.”
“I hate you when you speak logic.”
“Yeah. I know. But you still love me. Look, I gotta go. Got a staff meeting, and as much as you know I hate them, I’ll kinda get fired if I don’t attend.”
I laugh at that. “Seeing as you are responsible for running them, you probably should. Bye, Wade. And thank you.”
I hang up the phone, just as I hear the crunch of gravel come around the side of the house. When Butcher appears, he’s like a ray of sunshine on the landscape. He’s wearing a leather jacket lined with fur and black denim jeans that hug his butt. With thick-soled black boots and one of those black tube scarves with white skulls on it that he can pull up over his mouth while riding, he’s never looked more like a biker.
I think about what Wade said. Asking Butcher if he’d ever leave for me. But it feels like too dangerous a question. Maybe he’d say yes, but would he regret the decision and, therefore, me, in the future?
I’m not so unaware that I can’t see his feelings for me. Hell, I saw it when he hugged his daughter and then looked at me as if everything he ever wanted was right there in that room.
Wade’s suggestion will have to wait. Because I can’t ask Butcher a question that might ruin what this is, especially when he stomps up the steps, cups my cheeks, and kisses me without even saying a word.
His hands wrap around my waist and roam over my ass, as if he wants to take all of me in.
“Fuck, I missed you,” he mumbles, his lips brushing mine when he speaks.
Then, he kisses my forehead, and I practically swoon. Nothing has ever made me want to swoon before, but I swear, the moment I realize he’s going in to kiss my forehead, my whole worldview on romantic gestures switches.
“Did you have a good morning?” I ask.
“Yeah. Got some shit done.”
I try not to worry about what the shit might have been. “Good.”
He narrows his eyes. “You need more than that. Right?”
“Might be helpful if you don’t want me to worry.”
“We found out the Rebels were looking at some land outside of Idaho Springs, so we set up cameras around the outbuilding there. And we paid a visit to the landowner to make sure he was clear he shouldn’t sell to the Rebels.”
My mouth opens for a second. “You didn’t hurt him, did you?”
Butcher shakes his head. “We didn’t, but he’s crystal clear we will if he does.”
