Going Rogue Page 4

  “My work is flexible,” he replies, opening the mixed-sushi box and handing it to me. “I got you one with everything, because I wasn’t sure what your favorite was.”

  “I like the katsu chicken the best, but I’ll eat any of them,” I tell him with a smile. “You know you don’t have to bring me food all the time. How about tomorrow I bring us lunch?”

  On the one day he couldn’t stay, he still dropped off food for me, like it was his job to feed me even if he wasn’t going to be there for it. I don’t know what’s going on, but he hasn’t asked me out again since the coffee invitation. Is he being patient? Or maybe he took the friendship comment seriously, and now he’s just acting like a friend. Friends bring each other food, right?

  “Nope,” he says quickly, shaking his head. “I bring the food. You bring that beautiful smile of yours.”

  “Doesn’t sound like a very fair deal,” I say, watching as he feeds David a teething biscuit to keep him amused. David smiles when he sees it and rubs it across his gums.

  “Does to me,” he rumbles, waiting for me to start eating before he does the same. “How has your day been?”

  “Not too bad,” I tell him, not wanting to talk about some of the things I’ve had to clean today, because nobody wants to hear about that, especially while eating. “What else have you and David been up to?”

  “We went to the park, but then I realized he’s too young to go on any of the equipment,” he says, wincing. “But I read him a book and we hung out there for a little while. Then I took him home and his mother fed him lunch, and then I brought him with me here to see you and Mom. I like to try and give Celina a break whenever I can.”

  “You’re a good man,” I tell him, smiling. “Not everyone wants to hang out with a small baby all day, especially one who isn’t theirs.”

  “Well, actually, he’s not Celina’s either,” he admits, chuckling. “She’s pretty much adopted him with another friend of mine. I love the little dude too, and with his dad in prison, we all had to step up a bit. They say it takes a village to raise a child . . .”

  “They do.” I nod, picking up the crab sushi and biting into it. “So where is his mother, then? Is she in prison too?”

  “No,” he replies, frowning. “She’s not in the picture.”

  “Oh,” I mutter, not knowing what else to say. I keep my eyes on David, seeing how cute and happy he is, with no idea that his mother and father have both left him to be raised by others. “He’s lucky to have you guys.”

  “If Celina and Knuckles hadn’t stepped in, I’d be raising him full-time and probably not doing half as good of a job as they do.”

  “I don’t know, he seems pretty happy with you right now,” I say, and then decide to change the subject. “Mrs. K. seems to be her usual self today, so I’m sure she would love to see you and David.”

  “Every time she sees David, she asks me when I’m going to have one,” he tells me, sadness filling his eyes. “The fucked-up thing is that she most likely won’t be around to see me have my own child, and even if she is here, she won’t remember. The doctor told me about her heart condition, and that she probably won’t live much longer. It’s not going to be a surprise to me if I walk in here one day and she’s gone.”

  Along with the dementia, Mrs. K has other health issues such as arthritis and a heart condition. She’s prone to having heart attacks. What Rogue is saying is true, and I know it, but it’s hard to hear coming from his lips. It is so hard to get through something like that. I lost my grandfather, but I still have my parents and my sister. Rogue said his mom raised him and his brothers on her own, so maybe his dad isn’t in his life.

  “Where are your brothers?” I ask him, wondering why he’s the only family member who comes to visit.

  “They both live abroad,” he explains to me. “My middle brother lives in Canada, and my youngest brother is always traveling the world; he never stays in one spot too long. Last time he called me, he was in Sri Lanka.”

  “So you’re the oldest, which means you’re the responsible one, right?” I tease, trying to lighten the mood.

  “I’m meant to be,” he agrees, flashing me a grin. “Growing up, I was always the one who was there for Mom. I tried to let my brothers be young and enjoy their childhood. I was the man of the house, so it was up to me to look after Mom and make sure I helped as much as I could. Tell me more about your family.”

  “My older sister’s name is Vanessa,” I tell him, licking some soy sauce off my finger. “She’s a drama teacher. We’re really close, and trust me when I say that she’s a real character.”

  He barks out a laugh. “So you’re the young, spoiled one?”

  I snort. “I don’t know about all that,” I reply, laughing softly. “She’s the wild one. I’m more quiet and easygoing.”

  “I’ll have to meet her one day,” he says, and I can feel his gaze on me.

  I glance down at my watch. “I only have ten minutes before I have to go back in.”

  “You know, I was thinking, since we’re friends and all, I think you should give me your number,” he announces, pulling out his phone. “Just in case we want to hang out sometime.”

  “Well, when you put it that way,” I reply with a smirk, telling him my phone number as he types it into his phone.

  “Have you changed your mind about going for a ride on the back of my bike yet? I promise you’ll be safe,” he says as David reaches for me. I lift the baby into my arms and smile gently as he lays his head on my shoulder.

  “I think he’s sleepy,” I say, wrapping my arms around him. “And I don’t know about the ride. What’s the big deal about it?”

  “Freedom, adrenaline, fun, a new experience?” he suggests, excitement all over his expression as he talks about his damn bike. “How about this? I’ll take you for one ride, and if you hate it, I’ll never ask you again. At least you can tick if off your list and say you’ve done it, right?”

  Fuck.

  He makes some good points. I should be trying to step outside my comfort zone a little more. I can also see he’s a good man by the way he treats his mother and how he takes care of his friend’s baby. Actions speak louder than words, and his actions are leading me toward a different answer than I ever thought I’d be giving him.

  I can hear my sister’s lecture in my head.

  “Fine,” I agree hesitantly.

  Time for me to live a little.

  6

  Rogue: Miss me?

  Not even a little bit, I reply, grinning down at my phone.

  Rogue: Ahhh, come on now. How was your morning?

  Ever since I gave him my number two weeks ago, Rogue and I have been messaging back and forth nonstop. He’s actually pretty funny, and I’m finding that he’s the kind of person you can talk to about anything, whether joking or serious.

  Not too bad, I type back. How about yours?

  “What are you smiling at?” my sister asks me. She tries to glance over at my screen.

  “Nothing,” I say, tucking my phone in my pocket. “Just replying to a message. Now, what were you saying about your friends being jealous of you?”

  Her eyes flare, as if she’s just remembering. “Right, well. Carrie, this bitch . . .”

  She continues with the story about her coworker Carrie, who apparently copied both Vanessa’s dress style and her classroom decoration idea. Thank goodness my sister is so easily distracted.

  When my phone vibrates with another message, I wait until she goes to the bathroom before I read it. It’s not that I don’t want her to know what’s going on in my life right now, because she is the one person I tell everything, and eventually I will tell her.

  But before I do, I want to know that I won’t regret it.

  I want to know if there’s actually something to tell.

  A few days later, on my day off, Rogue picks me up from my apartment. Today is the day I go for a ride with him. I had no idea what to wear, because I have nothing leather or appropriat
e for a motorcycle, so I put on denim jeans and a jacket, with my black boots. I put my long hair in a low ponytail so a helmet can fit over it.

  Rogue: What number are you?

  Me: I’m coming down now.

  There’s no point in him coming to my door. I know he’s trying to be a gentleman, but we’re going straight down anyway, not lingering inside my apartment. I grab my cross-body bag, lock the door, and run down the stairs to the parking lot. He’s standing there against his bike, dressed in his usual black, but this time he’s wearing a leather vest.

  With patches on it.

  It makes me sure he’s part of a motorcycle gang, just like Fox was. I can’t deny that he looks sexy in it. I wonder what he looks like with just the vest, his muscles rippling under the leather, his biceps on display. Seeing him like this should make me want to turn around and go back. I got burned after going for the bad-boy type before. But there’s just something about this man in front of me. I don’t know what it is—I can only hope that history isn’t going to repeat itself.

  He’s so different from Fox, and he has my attention. All of it. The more time I spend with him, the more I see him, the more he’s consuming me.

  I want him.

  And not just his friendship.

  But at the end of the day, he’s a biker. And well? Bikers aren’t known for their commitment and loyalty to women.

  I take Rogue in from head to toe, then open my mouth to ask him about the whole biker deal, because I need to know exactly what I’m getting into right now. I don’t really know much about bikers and what they get up to, but I don’t think it’s good.

  “I’m in a motorcycle club,” he says before I can ask my question. “The Cursed Ravens MC. Have you heard of us?”

  I shake my head.

  “Don’t know if I should be happy about that or offended,” he teases, handing me a helmet. “I brought you a leather jacket to wear. You’ll be cold in that one.”

  “Whose is it?” I ask, arching a brow and eyeing it warily.

  “Mine,” he replies, chuckling. “Who else’s would it be? It’s heavy, but it’s safer than what you’ve gone on. If you happen to enjoy today, we’ll get you some proper gear.”

  “Okay, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” I mumble. But even though I wouldn’t let him buy me anything—other than food, apparently—the gesture is very sweet.

  “I do like you in those jeans, though,” he continues, checking me out. I don’t miss the heat in his eyes, and suddenly the pretense of us just being friends falls away, the reality of the situation making itself apparent.

  This is our first date.

  All the offers he made me, from coffee to dinner to going for a ride, I’ve finally given in, and here we are.

  I slide my arms into the leather jacket, and he’s right, it’s heavy, and big for me, but I manage to zip it up. When I glance back up at him, there’s something in his eyes that sends a shiver down my spine.

  Yeah, he likes me in his jacket.

  And I like the way he’s eyeing me right now a little too much.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” I tease, narrowing my gaze on him.

  “Like what?” he asks, now with a blank expression.

  “I don’t know, kind of possessive and kind of smug, I don’t know how to explain it.” I smirk, looking toward his Harley, my nemesis, which I now have to try and make friends with.

  “I’ll try not to look at you all . . . possessive and smug,” he says, unable to hide the amusement etched all over his face.

  Everything is a joke to him. I guess it’s a good way to live life.

  “How do you want me to look at you, then?” he continues when I stay quiet, lost in my thoughts.

  “I don’t know,” I reply, shifting on my feet, suddenly feeling a little shy. “I guess I’d like you to look at me how I look at you.”

  “And how do you think you look at me?” he asks, coming closer, our bodies almost touching.

  I lift my face to look up at him. “Like I find you attractive,” I start, clearing my throat. “And, I don’t know. You tell me. How do I look at you? You say I have no poker face, so it should be plain for you to see, right?”

  He licks his lips and looks me right in the eyes. “You look at me like you want me, but you have reservations. Like sometimes I make you nervous. Like you want to let yourself be free with me, but you’re unsure. But my favorite thing I see in those beautiful brown eyes is the connection between us. And you can deny it all you want, or throw words like friendship in my face, but it’s there, and I know you can feel it just as much as I can.”

  Shit.

  He sees all that in my basic muddy-brown eyes?

  “Well,” I say, rubbing my palms together. “This conversation escalated. How about we go for this ride so I can freak out about being on the back of your bike and not have to come up with a comeback for that?”

  He throws his head back and laughs. “All right, you take the ride to think of a reply, sweetheart.”

  Sweetheart?

  I ignore the pet name and touch the handlebars. “Okay, so tell me what I need to know to survive this.”

  He laughs again. “Just hold on tight, move with me when I turn, and keep your feet off the exhaust. That’s about it. I’ve been riding for years, so don’t be scared, all right? I wouldn’t put you in danger.”

  “Okay,” I say, taking a deep breath. “I can do this. Be all fun, taking a risk and shit . . . I’ve got this.”

  I feel a little better after my pep talk, and once he’s on the bike, I step up behind him and remember everything he told me.

  Feet where they’re meant to be, check.

  I lean forward and wrap my arms around his waist, barely touching him, my breasts pressed up against his back. When he starts up the engine, though, I hold on to him tighter, as if he’s a fucking lifeline.

  I’m not dying today.

  I close my eyes at the start, but after a few minutes, I relax and open them, looking around and taking everything in. I know what he meant now when he said freedom, because I don’t think I’ve ever felt so free in my life. Scared but free. There’s noise in my ears, wind in my hair, and in my shadow on the road, I can see my long ponytail billowing behind me. When he makes the first wide turn, I close my eyes again, but they’re open for the rest of the ride. I soak it up. This is something I’d never normally do, and if Rogue hadn’t come into my life, I probably never would have tried.

  We stop at a café. He gets off first, then helps me down.

  “What did you think?” he asks me as soon as our helmets are off. “You stopped clawing me after the first few minutes, so I’m going to take that as a good sign.”

  “I hate to say this, but you were right, it was . . . indescribable. I’m so happy I got to experience that,” I tell him, handing him back the helmet, which he places on the end of the bike. I then remove his leather jacket, which he also takes from me. “I can see why you’d want to ride every day instead of driving. It almost takes you out of the moment and into a different headspace, you know? Like a break from the boring routine.”

  “I know exactly what you mean,” he agrees, offering me his hand. I look down at it, then take it, threading his fingers through mine. I’m not going to overthink anything, I’m just going to enjoy the moment and let this delicious man in front of me take me out for a coffee. “I did promise you a coffee,” he says, grinning.

  “You did,” I agree. “What’s next? Dinner?”

  He laughs and shakes his head. “Guess you’re going to have to wait and see.”

  After we finish our coffee, we get back on the bike. The next stop is an ice cream parlor, which I think is pretty damn cute. I love ice cream.

  “I hope you like ice cream,” he says as he opens the door for me. “Or this is going to be really awkward.”

  “Are there people who don’t like ice cream?” I ask him, walking in front of him and turning my head back, smiling at him. “I love it. Than
k you for bringing me here.”

  He shakes his head and follows. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

  I smile and look over the many different flavors.

  “What would you like?” he asks me, standing next to me, his arm touching mine.

  “I’ll have hazelnut in a cone, please,” I tell the lady at the counter.

  “And for you?” she asks Rogue, staring at him; I know she’s thinking, Wow.

  “Salted caramel in a cup, please,” he tells her, pulling out his wallet and placing some money on the counter. He looks down at me and asks, “Can I get you anything else? A drink? Something to eat?”

  I shake my head. “No, thank you. Just the ice cream. I’ve always wanted to try this place but never got around to it.”

  “No ice cream crawls stop here?” he jokes, handing me my ice cream after the lady hands it to him.

  “Thank you, and ha ha, very funny. I haven’t seen an ice cream crawl yet, but if there were one, I’d be all over it.” I pause and add, “Maybe we should make up our own.”

  “That could be an idea,” he says, taking his cup and thanking the lady. We walk over to a little booth and sit opposite each other, eating the icy sweetness, and I can’t help but think that this is the cutest fucking date and one I wouldn’t expect a biker to take me on.

  I guess you can’t always listen to stereotypes.

  Rogue is right: Sometimes you just have to go where the connection is.

  7

  After we finish our ice cream, we get back on his bike and go for a longer ride this time, taking a scenic route past the beach. We come to a stop at a brewery where they also serve food; I’ve eaten here before.

  “I thought this wasn’t a date,” I tease, sitting down on the chair he pulls out for me. We chose to sit at one of the outdoor tables and enjoy the weather.

  “I think we both know what bullshit that facade was,” he admits with a cheeky grin, sitting down next to me. He lifts his head up and looks at the sky, the sun hitting his face. “I don’t know what’s going on here, Zoe, but it isn’t just fuckin’ friends, I can tell you that right now. Friendship is part of it, but not all of it.”