Page 12 of Patch's Bride
Patch’s head snaps around to look at me. “Absolutely not. I’ll contact that asshole myself and explain the situation to him.”
He stresses the word ‘explain’ and the tone of his voice scares me. I’ve never heard him sound so cold. There is also a threatening edge to his voice that I never would have suspected he was capable of. It worries me.
He softens his voice as he reaches out to take my hand again. “I will take care of it. I swear it’s going to be worlds easier for himto hear it man-to-man, rather than from the woman he hoped to victimize.”
I nod, because when he puts it like that it makes perfect sense. “Yeah, you’re probably right about that. He never did listen to a word I had to say.”
“It’s settled then,” he says with a decisive nod.
When we step back outside, the morning chill has eased. The sun is still shining but I can see storm clouds moving in. Soon it will be overcast. My emotions are all over the place because I’ve made a bunch of major life-altering decisions in a short period of time. I bring my hand to rest against the front of my bag. It now contains our marriage license, the thing that could prove to be the best or worst decision of my life. It all depends upon the man intent on protecting me.
I glance up to find Patch’s expression unreadable.
His parents linger only long enough to say their goodbyes. I’m surprised that Caroline doesn’t mention the wedding ceremony that needs to take place within ninety days. Maybe she’s decided that she pushed her luck enough with her strong-willed son.
As they drive off, Patch lets out an audible sigh before turning to me. “Are you ready to get out of here and step into your new life?”
My eyebrows shoot up. “You make it sound almost glamorous.”
He snorts a laugh as he unlocks our helmets. “There ain’t nothing glamorous about my life, darlin’. I patch people up for a living, so there’s lots of blood and other less savory byproducts of the human body when it malfunctions.”
My mouth falls open at his term of endearment. Then I realize it’s either biker speak or just selling the relationshipto any stray ears that might be within earshot. “None of that bothers me. It probably should but it doesn’t.”
He grins and waggles his eyebrows. “You’re tempting me to put that to the test, wife.”
His sense of humor is so disarming that I forget all my troubles and tease him back. “Don’t jump the gun, fiancé. I’m not your wife yet. Not until the other half of our document gets filled in. Until then, we’re not technically married.”
His expression changes. I can’t really say he’s angry or even irritated. I realize it’s possessiveness when he reaches out and tugs me closer, strapping on my helmet.
My hands come up to grab the straps. “I can do it myself.”
He brushes my hands away. “Just for today, I get to take care of you.”
I gasp, realizing that he’s saying today is special to him. Since he’s already said he doesn’t want me, I can’t begin to guess why it would be different from any other day in his mind. But I don’t ask because that seems like asking for trouble. Today has been stressful enough already. Instead, I lean back against his bike and let him do as he likes.
He doesn’t comment further. In fact, I can see that his jaw is locked, like he may have just said something he regrets. When he’s finished, I climb back onto his bike, and he takes his seat in front of me. I settle down behind him, arms wrapping around his waist. Although I would never say I need to be close to him right now. When I lay my cheek against his back, he abruptly starts the engine. It’s not as loud as I remember from the ride to the courthouse. Maybe I’m getting used to it. The vibrations are still strong. Perhaps, in time, I’ll get used to that too.
Patch maneuvers out of the lot and onto the road. Traffic is heavy because it’s the morning rush hour, when everyone istrying to get to work. I press closer to him, holding on tighter than before. Having other vehicles so close makes me anxious. Soon, we’re on the interstate, and I ease my grip slightly. When one of his hands comes up to rest over mine, I tear up for some reason. I keep telling myself that I’ve got this, but every time I pull up my big girl panties and try to power through, something else pops up, like my stepdad calling the Patchetts looking for me, or all those cars in town spiking my anxiety.
When will it all end?
Chapter 5
Patch
Finally reaching my office is a relief. Because of the tiny apartment upstairs, I think of it as my own little stronghold in a sometimes-chaotic world. When I don’t have time to ride thirty minutes to my house in the suburbs, my place in the city saves me from rolling up on my parents or renting a hotel room. That’s the main reason I don’t rent it out. I’m selfish that way.
When we get off my bike, Beth looks like she’s about to cry. I can tell by the way she clung to me on the way here that although she might be holding it together on the outside, she’s falling apart on the inside. Of course she is. First, she discovers her stepfather is a monster, trying his best to traffic her for personal gain, and then my mother gets the bright idea that an arranged marriage to a man fourteen years her senior is the only surefire solution to her problem. Any nineteen-year-old would be freaked out and looking to attach herself to the first decent guy who offered her protection.
As we enter the office, I see a couple of patients who have signed in early for their appointments. I hear a phone ring somewhere behind the front desk. My staff moves with purpose.
Sharon is the first to greet us. “Good morning, Doc.” As always, she’s wearing scrubs with her hair pulled up in a messy bun.
“Morning, Sharon.” Glancing around at the rest of my staff, I add, “And other miscellaneous peeps.”
They roll their eyes and Maggie laughs.
Sharon gives me an apologetic look. “Sorry about Crow thinking you’re dazzling us all with your amazing medical skills.”
