“Because I love her,” Casey offered the best explanation she could. “Renee is never going to grow up, ever. Mugg still thinks he can change her, that eventually she’ll quit spending money like there’s no tomorrow, that she won’t flirt with everything that has a dick, and that she’ll take better care of herself. The difference between your father and me is that I realize she’s never going to change. When Mugg finally realizes that, he’ll leave again, and when he does, he won’t come back.”
“You don’t know my father.”
“Really? You tell me, Max; how would Mugg react if, for example, he went to draw money out of his account, and he didn’t have a dime left to fill that bike tank with gas?”
She watched the expressions as they crossed his face. He was figuring out for himself the answer she had already learned several times over.
“Mugg won’t let it get to that point.”
“Won’t he?” she asked doubtfully.
“No.” He said it as if he was trying to convince himself more than her.
“We’ll see. I hope you’re right, Max. I really do. I like Mugg.” She took a step toward her car then made herself stop. It was now or never.
Turning back to face him, she asked, “Want to come over for lunch tomorrow? From the way you went for that cake, I don’t suppose you get many home-cooked meals.” She held her breath as she waited for his answer, hoping he said no then praying that he would.
He hesitated before nodding. “Sure. I never turn down food.”
Casey pasted what she hoped looked like a genuine smile on her face. “Good; about one? Do you need my address?”
“One’s good, and I know where you live.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Night, Max.” She went to her car without glancing back.
Her hand nearly dropped her key as she slid it into the ignition. Forcing herself to calm down was easier said than done. She let her eyes dart to the clubhouse to see he had gone back inside.
“Dear God… What have I done?” she whispered into the silence of the car.
Chapter 9
Max parked his bike at the front of Casey’s apartment, still asking himself what the fuck he was doing. He almost backed his bike out of the parking spot, unsure why he had said he would have lunch alone with her. Maybe it was the look on her face that had made him curious enough to accept.
Max hadn’t lived the life he had for years without knowing when he was being manipulated, and he was curious enough to find out what Casey was up to. Did she want him to try to interfere in Mugg and her mother’s relationship? When his father had left Renee, Max hadn’t even asked why, because he had known. Mugg had been forced to borrow money from him to cover the bills Renee had built up.
He climbed the flight of stairs to her apartment. Colton, one of the brothers¸ had stayed here briefly before he had married his wife and they had moved to a small town outside of Queen City.
Knocking on the door, he didn’t have to wait long before it opened, and a flustered Casey stood, staring at him.
“Am I too early?”
“What? No… You’re exactly on time,” she said, ignoring the smoke billowing out of the apartment behind her.
“Is something on fire?” He tried to keep his lips from twitching as she tried to pretend the smoke wasn’t there.
“No, I had a small mishap, but everything’s fine,” she said without moving from the doorway.
“Can I come in?”
When she nodded, taking a step back and opening the door wider, Max strode in, coming to a stop. Turning, he saw her frantically moving the door back and forth, trying to get the smoke to leave the room.
“I’ll open a window,” she said, closing the door hastily.
Moving around him, she opened her living room windows while Max watched silently. The apartment wasn’t very large. The living room was barely big enough to hold a red leather couch and coffee table. She had a small table that she had set with plates and what looked like a pitcher of iced tea.
“I won’t be a minute. Have a seat.” She waved at the table as she walked to the small kitchen that was separated from the room by a counter with a couple of stools.
He remained standing, observing her as she took a burned pan of goo off the stove. Bending down, she pulled another pan from underneath the counter, deftly tossing some vegetables into it.
“I’m sorry. I had it done, but the phone rang, and I became distracted. It won’t take me a minute to make another batch.”
“What are we having?”
“Fajitas. I hope you like Mexican. I made some rice.” She motioned to the counter. “If you want to help, you could set those on the table.”
Max didn’t think she liked him staring at her. Setting the food that was placed on the counter onto the table, he then opened the tortilla warmer and saw she had made fresh flour shells. His ass sat down in the chair.
“I love Mexican. Did you make these yourself?” he asked, placing a spoonful of rice into a shell and eating half of it in one bite.
“Yes,” Casey answered, placing a large platter filled with chicken and vegetables down on the table. “I have beer if you’d like one.”
“Tea’s fine,” Max replied, already reaching for another shell. He was in heaven. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a home-cooked meal. At the clubhouse, the members all fended for themselves. He had hoped after finding out that Grace could cook like a chef that her friend CeCe would be as adept, but she had never offered to cook for him. Most of the time, they would eat out before going to the clubhouse or her house. When he had stayed the night at her house, he would take her out to breakfast before heading out on the long road back home.
She poured them both drinks. “I have plenty. You can take what’s left back to the clubhouse when you leave.”
“There’s not going to be anything left.” Max shook his head.
As he ate, he noticed a pair of pictures hanging on the wall behind her. Casey was standing next to one of the best-looking men Max had ever seen, and they were looking into each other’s eyes while Casey cupped his cheek in one hand. In the other picture, they were sitting on a towel on the beach, surrounded by seashells. The man was showing her a starfish, and they were both staring down at it as if it was a miracle of nature. There was something special about the picture, but Max couldn’t place what it was.
“Is that the boyfriend?” He nodded to the picture behind her head.
“Jayce? No, that’s not him.”
Max waited for her to tell him who it was, but she remained silent, continuing to eat.
“He know you’re cheating on him?”
Casey laid her fork on her plate, frowning. “I don’t consider eating lunch with you cheating on Jayce, but for your information, I’m not seeing him anymore.”
“I wasn’t talking about me,” he said, surprised that had been what she had thought he meant. “I was talking about the man in the pictures. It’s obvious you care about him, and that picture wasn’t taken too long ago.”
“Oh.” She picked her fork up again. “How do you know those pictures aren’t old?”
“You don’t know my father.”
“Really? You tell me, Max; how would Mugg react if, for example, he went to draw money out of his account, and he didn’t have a dime left to fill that bike tank with gas?”
She watched the expressions as they crossed his face. He was figuring out for himself the answer she had already learned several times over.
“Mugg won’t let it get to that point.”
“Won’t he?” she asked doubtfully.
“No.” He said it as if he was trying to convince himself more than her.
“We’ll see. I hope you’re right, Max. I really do. I like Mugg.” She took a step toward her car then made herself stop. It was now or never.
Turning back to face him, she asked, “Want to come over for lunch tomorrow? From the way you went for that cake, I don’t suppose you get many home-cooked meals.” She held her breath as she waited for his answer, hoping he said no then praying that he would.
He hesitated before nodding. “Sure. I never turn down food.”
Casey pasted what she hoped looked like a genuine smile on her face. “Good; about one? Do you need my address?”
“One’s good, and I know where you live.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Night, Max.” She went to her car without glancing back.
Her hand nearly dropped her key as she slid it into the ignition. Forcing herself to calm down was easier said than done. She let her eyes dart to the clubhouse to see he had gone back inside.
“Dear God… What have I done?” she whispered into the silence of the car.
Chapter 9
Max parked his bike at the front of Casey’s apartment, still asking himself what the fuck he was doing. He almost backed his bike out of the parking spot, unsure why he had said he would have lunch alone with her. Maybe it was the look on her face that had made him curious enough to accept.
Max hadn’t lived the life he had for years without knowing when he was being manipulated, and he was curious enough to find out what Casey was up to. Did she want him to try to interfere in Mugg and her mother’s relationship? When his father had left Renee, Max hadn’t even asked why, because he had known. Mugg had been forced to borrow money from him to cover the bills Renee had built up.
He climbed the flight of stairs to her apartment. Colton, one of the brothers¸ had stayed here briefly before he had married his wife and they had moved to a small town outside of Queen City.
Knocking on the door, he didn’t have to wait long before it opened, and a flustered Casey stood, staring at him.
“Am I too early?”
“What? No… You’re exactly on time,” she said, ignoring the smoke billowing out of the apartment behind her.
“Is something on fire?” He tried to keep his lips from twitching as she tried to pretend the smoke wasn’t there.
“No, I had a small mishap, but everything’s fine,” she said without moving from the doorway.
“Can I come in?”
When she nodded, taking a step back and opening the door wider, Max strode in, coming to a stop. Turning, he saw her frantically moving the door back and forth, trying to get the smoke to leave the room.
“I’ll open a window,” she said, closing the door hastily.
Moving around him, she opened her living room windows while Max watched silently. The apartment wasn’t very large. The living room was barely big enough to hold a red leather couch and coffee table. She had a small table that she had set with plates and what looked like a pitcher of iced tea.
“I won’t be a minute. Have a seat.” She waved at the table as she walked to the small kitchen that was separated from the room by a counter with a couple of stools.
He remained standing, observing her as she took a burned pan of goo off the stove. Bending down, she pulled another pan from underneath the counter, deftly tossing some vegetables into it.
“I’m sorry. I had it done, but the phone rang, and I became distracted. It won’t take me a minute to make another batch.”
“What are we having?”
“Fajitas. I hope you like Mexican. I made some rice.” She motioned to the counter. “If you want to help, you could set those on the table.”
Max didn’t think she liked him staring at her. Setting the food that was placed on the counter onto the table, he then opened the tortilla warmer and saw she had made fresh flour shells. His ass sat down in the chair.
“I love Mexican. Did you make these yourself?” he asked, placing a spoonful of rice into a shell and eating half of it in one bite.
“Yes,” Casey answered, placing a large platter filled with chicken and vegetables down on the table. “I have beer if you’d like one.”
“Tea’s fine,” Max replied, already reaching for another shell. He was in heaven. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a home-cooked meal. At the clubhouse, the members all fended for themselves. He had hoped after finding out that Grace could cook like a chef that her friend CeCe would be as adept, but she had never offered to cook for him. Most of the time, they would eat out before going to the clubhouse or her house. When he had stayed the night at her house, he would take her out to breakfast before heading out on the long road back home.
She poured them both drinks. “I have plenty. You can take what’s left back to the clubhouse when you leave.”
“There’s not going to be anything left.” Max shook his head.
As he ate, he noticed a pair of pictures hanging on the wall behind her. Casey was standing next to one of the best-looking men Max had ever seen, and they were looking into each other’s eyes while Casey cupped his cheek in one hand. In the other picture, they were sitting on a towel on the beach, surrounded by seashells. The man was showing her a starfish, and they were both staring down at it as if it was a miracle of nature. There was something special about the picture, but Max couldn’t place what it was.
“Is that the boyfriend?” He nodded to the picture behind her head.
“Jayce? No, that’s not him.”
Max waited for her to tell him who it was, but she remained silent, continuing to eat.
“He know you’re cheating on him?”
Casey laid her fork on her plate, frowning. “I don’t consider eating lunch with you cheating on Jayce, but for your information, I’m not seeing him anymore.”
“I wasn’t talking about me,” he said, surprised that had been what she had thought he meant. “I was talking about the man in the pictures. It’s obvious you care about him, and that picture wasn’t taken too long ago.”
“Oh.” She picked her fork up again. “How do you know those pictures aren’t old?”
