Jerk: Delinquent Rebels MC (3 page)

“And don’t tell me how to feel about my mom,” she snapped, stepping away and stalking toward the road. A gravel sidewalk would lead her back downtown to her mom’s apartment—though her heels were going to make walking a pain.

“You don’t have to go,” he called after her, following without being too close. She looked over her shoulder with a frown. “I thought we were having a good time… catching up. Rehashing the good ol’ days.”

“We had no good old days,” she remarked flatly, turning back and scowling. “
We
had one night—”

“That you snuck away from—”

“And then we never talked again,” April finished, her cheeks tinting as red as the sunset. “Don’t act like we have some big
thing
between us. I know what kind of man you are.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Do you?”

She opened and closed her mouth a few times, then she turned on her heels and continued her march toward the road.

“I was going to offer you a ride home,” Van insisted. “I brought my bike.”

“I’d rather walk,” she fired back. When he gave no reply, she looked back once more, only to find him standing in the middle of the parking lot, watching her leave with a smug grin on his lips. Just like before, he’d found a way to make her feel like she’d lost the battle without saying a word. Huffing, April gripped her purse strap and carried on, her head held high.

It only took about five minutes before she regretted not calling a cab, her feet aching and covered in blisters.

But at least she wasn’t on the back of Van Palmer’s bike. At least she had
some
standards.

CHAPTER THREE

“Door’s open,” April called absently over her shoulder, wondering why her mom bothered to knock. She’d spent the morning getting the apartment ready for their day of painting, and now that it was pushing two in the afternoon, she was surprised her mom had only just returned. Well, surprised—yet not. If she’d learned anything about her mom in the few days since she’d returned to Cascade Falls, it was that love turned her into a social butterfly. So, really, she could have easily wound up chatting with the employees working at the paint store, all the while forgetting that she’d left April to the heavy lifting alone.

Now that she was moving into James’s palatial estate, its size towering over just about every other home in town, her mom wanted to repaint the apartment for potential buyers. She’d gone a little over-the-top with new decorations and knickknacks to make an already charming downtown apartment look even better, and April knew, new paint job or not, the place would sell within days of being on the market.

Had she not been feeling guilty for abandoning her rather drunk mom at the resort with Van and James, April wouldn’t have volunteered to move all the furniture in the apartment to the middle of the rooms and drape them. She would have encouraged her mom to hire professionals for the day—all this physical labor was murder on her back.

“April?”

She dropped the roller she’d been struggling to attach to its pole, as Van’s voice sounded throughout the apartment. Setting her painting gear aside, she hurried out of the huge living room with its beautiful bay window overlooking Main Street and staggered to a halt when she saw him standing by the front door.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, trying not to sound too frantic. She hadn’t seen or heard from him since they’d parted ways at the lakeside resort, and honestly, she’d been a little embarrassed at how they’d ended things. Drudging up the past had been his game, not hers, and yet she fell right into it and ended up bickering with him like a teenager.

Her eyes wandered down his muscular arms to the cans of paint he was holding, and she felt her stomach knot.

“Dad and I ran into your mom while we were out this morning,” he told her, taking a few steps into the foyer. “Somehow I was offered up as a
volunteer
to paint her living room while they go grab afternoon drinks.”

Her hands fell to her hips, eyebrows shooting up. “Oh really?”

His story sounded painfully familiar to her own. Lips pursed, she studied him quickly, taking in his grungy old leather boots, dark jeans, and non-descript black t-shirt. He was like a storm cloud ready to pummel her day. Still, all those muscles had to be good for something, and she wasn’t about to turn away good help.

“I’ve got a few hours before my bar shift starts,” he told her, peering into the living room through the nearby doorway. “I was going to offer to move the furniture, but you seem to have taken care of that already.”

“You can help paint,” she said stiffly, as she took two of the cans from him. He then ducked into the hallway again and brought in three more cans, and she suddenly felt bad that he had to lug all of that up to her mom’s apartment in an elevator-less building.

No. Don’t feel bad for him. He is a womanizing jerk with a rich daddy…who works at a bar and drives a motorcycle. Van doesn’t need my sympathy.

They got to work shortly after, and April did her best to keep the conversation strictly focused around painting. Eggshell blue. Brush size pros and cons. Rollers. Paint trays. Whatever she could do to not bring up their parting spat at the resort, she did it. Though as they worked, a part of her wished she wasn’t wearing a massive baggy t-shirt over her rolled-up leggings. Occasionally, she caught him eyeing her, and she wished she’d looked like less of a boho arts student. After all, even in jeans and a t-shirt, Van radiated raw manly appeal—April would have liked to at least have been on the same playing field.

They were almost finished with the bulk of the living room when he asked her about college. April stiffened, worried he’d bring up the night
before
college, but he never did.

“I just did some online stuff after high school,” he admitted, as he fixed some of the tape they’d used to protect the crown molding. “School wasn’t really for me, but I sometimes wish I’d done the whole college thing.”

Yeah, he probably does if he works at a bar.
She bit back the comment.
I work in retail, for goodness sake, so who am I to be on a high horse?

Hesitantly, she gave him the bare bones of her experience, leaving out the array of mediocre sex partners and the few very traumatizing breakdowns she’d had about grades and job prospects. He listened intently, never interrupting, never teasing, and by the time she was finished, there was a noticeable shift in the air between them.

Comfort. Ease. The repetitive motion of dragging a paint brush up and down, the breeze wafting in from the propped open windows, the radio humming softly in the background… It all created a rather relaxed state of mind as they worked. She hadn’t even noticed the time pass, but they’d been working together for almost two hours without a single fight or snide comment. Progress.

“So,” Van started, as she touched up a corner that was looking a little sloppy, “any cute college boys tickle your fancy?”

She laughed, stepping back to study her work. “Tickle my fancy? Is that a thing people say still?”

“Ah, avoidance,” Van mused serenely, nodding. “The first line of defense—”

“College boys are none of your business anyway,” she insisted, as she pointed her brush at him. Unfortunately, the force behind the point sent some paint flying, splattering across his t-shirt and jeans. April stepped back, horrified.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to—”

Before she could get her full apology out, Van dipped his brush in the nearby paint can and flicked some eggshell blue paint at her.

“Tit for tat, April O’Hara,” he said rather seriously, as she looked down at herself, her jaw hanging open. April gripped her brush tightly, a rush of adrenaline pumping through her.

“You got way more on me than I did on you!” And with that, she reached out and dragged her paintbrush across his stomach, which, even beneath his shirt, she could tell was toned and firm. Van looked down at the mark she made, lips set in a thin line, and April smirked when their eyes met. “
Now
we’re even.”

“Proportionally, I think
I
have more paint on me than
you
,” he told her, and April shrieked and danced out of the way when he tried to get her with his brush.

And before either of them realized, their demure day of painting had turned into a full-blown paint fight. Thank goodness she’d covered all the important things with sheets earlier in the day, because neither of them held back as they flung paint at each other, laughing. Van caught her while she was trying to creep out of the kitchen at one point, an arm encircling her waist and his paintbrush running from her collarbone to her hip. She giggled and squirmed out of his grasp, managing to get his neck with her brush in turn.

The whole thing came to a crashing halt when someone cleared their voice in the foyer. James Palmer brought April back to reality in about 2.5 seconds, and the pure childish glee she’d been feeling quickly evaporated. Panting, she moved away from Van and tucked some of her fallen hair behind her ears, the rest of it up in a sloppy bun.

“Your mother and I ran into some friends at lunch,” he said, and Van exhaled deeply. “She sent me to check on your progress…” The older man’s eyes wandered the hall before landing squarely on April, who was covered in paint. “Swimmingly, I see.”

April struggled to find the right words, but it was Van to speak up first.

“Shit!” He pressed his hand to her lower back, capturing her attention. “I have to work in a half hour, and it’ll take me twice as long to get cleaned up. Sorry.”

“It’s… fine,” she said stiffly, stilling when he leaned in for a hug—or a kiss? Whatever it was, it made her breath catch in her throat.

Van did neither, however, and instead bopped her on the nose with his paintbrush. Scowling, April watched him go, leaving her to deal with his dad all on her own. She held up a hand as soon as the door shut, excusing herself to get cleaned up. However, she wasn’t in the bathroom for more than a minute before James appeared in the doorway, leaning on the frame and watching her in the mirror.

“You and my son seem to be on better terms today,” he noted, as she rinsed her hands in the sink. April nodded, a little surprised herself. “I would be careful with him.”

April looked up sharply, frowning, then told him, “I’m not unaware of his reputation. He’s had it since high school.”

“Oh, I don’t mean his reputation.” James stepped into the bathroom, not stopping until he was directly behind her, so close that she could almost feel him. April stiffened, stunned. “I mean I don’t want the two of you getting
too
close. The way he looks at you… The way
you
look at him. It stops today. Is that understood?”

“But we—”

“If it does not,” he continued, and her blood ran cold as he reached up and brushed her loose hair behind her shoulders, “there will be consequences. Severe consequences… for both you and your mom. Particularly if you tell someone of this little… chat. Am I clear?”

All she could do was nod, her mouth dry, and the smile he gave her in the mirror made her nauseous.

“Good.” Then, as an added bonus, he patted her behind before stepping away. April blinked at her reflection, stunned. “I’ll be sure to tell your mother you’ve made… some progress on the apartment. I believe she expects it to be mostly finished when she returns this evening.”

With that, he left, shutting the door firmly behind him. Once she was alone, April let out a shaky breath and sunk to the floor, her mind racing with all that had happened in just a few short hours.

CHAPTER FOUR

April hadn’t been to an early morning farmers’ market since she was in high school. Although, back then, she hadn’t gone on her own; her mom had always dragged her there, as if seeing everyone supporting the local economy would be some big learning experience. The market opened at eight a.m., and back then, April had been either angrily grumbling about being up so early or half-asleep during most of the perusing of stalls anyway.

This time, she went on her own. She’d been cramped up in her mom’s apartment for the last few days, a constant headache festering just behind her eyes from all the paint fumes. James had really given her the creeps, and with his unnerving warning floating around her mind, she’d opted not to do a whole lot of visiting. Instead, she worked on the apartment, caught up on some movies she’d meant to watch, and did a lot of reading.

But with her mom needing to spend the whole day at her boutiques, April had volunteered to do the grocery shopping—and where better to do that than at a fresh market? The farmers usually set up their stands at the south end of Main Street, taking over a parking lot to showcase their goods. When April got there that morning, the tents and tables had spilled out into the church lot across the street too, and it seemed these morning markets had become much more popular since her teen years. Reusable shopping bags tucked under her arm, she took a deep breath before slipping into the crowds.

Occasionally, someone she knew would stop her, usually friends of her mom, and they’d have the same boring chit-chat she had with most real-world functioning adults: ‘What are you doing these days?’ The loaded question always made her skin crawl, but April would give the fake smile she’d mastered over the years, nod along to whatever they were saying, and then slip out when convenient.

“Hey, stranger.”

Unfortunately, the one person she couldn’t evade quite as easily was the one person she was supposed to avoid—or else.

Even with her floppy hat and thick black sunglasses, Van had somehow picked her out of the crowd. While she wanted to skirt off and hide behind the zucchini stand, a part of her was curious as to why Van would be at a farmers’ market at nine in the morning anyway. He stuck out like a sore thumb. Most of the crowd, herself included, were dressed in spring pastels, but Van stuck to his jeans and tee, covered with a fitted leather jacket. She raised an eyebrow as he approached, a bag of lemons in one hand and one of limes in the other.

“Hi,” she offered, pulling her sunglasses off and setting them on top of her hat. He stopped within a foot of her, close enough that she caught of a whiff of his rich cologne, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up straight.

“Haven’t heard from you in a few days,” he said, his voice low as he held her gaze. She stared back, unwilling to be the first to look away. “Thought you’d run off.”

Again
. She heard the implication—but chose to ignore it.

“I’m going to be honest…” She licked her lips, trying very hard not to let her gaze flicker down to his. Soft. She remembered them being soft. “This is the last place I would have ever expected to find you.”

“Is that why you’re here?”

She held up her bags, already full with fresh produce. “I’m doing the weekly shopping. Shockingly, my world doesn’t revolve around you, Van.”

He smirked, peering into the closest bag. As he commented on the size of the heads of lettuce she’d chosen, April felt her smile steadily falling. In the back of her mind, James’s words reared their ugly heads, roaring loudly, even louder still when she looked up at Van. The man set to marry her mom had issued a chilling warning, yes, but it was the same sort of warning she should have given herself. Her guard had fallen while they were painting, but that didn’t change the fact that Van was still the same bad boy he’d always been.

He worked at a bar! He probably had women falling all over themselves to get his attention on a nightly basis, and she had to assume that was the main reason he chose that line of work.

Shaking her head, she cleared her throat and looked away, forcing James’s threats out of her mind and instead focusing on everything she needed to get for the day. Apples. Oranges. Bananas. A few loaves of bread if they had any—her mom was going through them like crazy these days.

“April?”

“Sorry, what?” she stammered, suddenly realizing he’d actually been talking while she was deep in thought. He arched an eyebrow, nodding pointedly at her bags.

“I said those looked kind of heavy,” Van told her, as he shifted all of his bags to one hand. “I was wondering if you wanted me to carry one.”

“I think I can carry some vegetables around—but thanks.”

He smirked and reached for the bag anyway, tugging it out of her hand and sliding the straps over his broad shoulder. She bit the insides of her cheeks, keeping a snarl at bay—all the while acknowledging that the bag
had
been a little too heavy for her. How she was going to carry everything back to the apartment was beyond her, but she definitely should have considered taking the car.

Ahh, the curse of a small town. You feel guilty for driving anywhere because everything is within walking distance, and yet when it comes down to actually walking… you’d rather shove pins in your eyes than schlep everything around town.

“So, what’s next?” Van asked, his eyes wandering between the nearby stalls, squinting in the sunlight. April crossed her arms, suddenly noticing that a few people were watching them. Another curse of small town living: the gossip mill.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he continued, shooting her a grin, “what else do you need to buy?”

“Why?”

“Because we’re shopping together now.”

April’s frown deepened. “Again… Why?”

Van exhaled deeply, as he readjusted the bag strap on his shoulder. She noted the way his jaw clenched, the muscle bulging along his jawline—something she’d always found sexy on a man. Swallowing hard, April averted her gaze, hoping to distract herself, but found everywhere she looked on Van was a distraction.

“Because we’re going to be… some weird… blended family soon,” he managed, the words seeming to come slowly to him, as if he hadn’t thought he needed to justify his reasons for spending time with her. “We should get on semi-decent terms.”

April almost asked
why
again, but then thought better of it. He was right after all. If her mom and his dad were set to tie the knot, they’d be spending all of their holidays together in the near future. Weekends away. Thanksgiving. New Years. She could still be friendly with him without actually getting too close. It was possible to keep James
and
her conscience happy. Just because the possibility of a tentative friendship was on the horizon didn’t mean she’d let her guard down.

“I need apples,” she said after a brief pause, Van’s gaze fixed on her, as she thought things over. “Green ones.”

“I saw some a few rows over.”

April let him lead the way, using his hulking figure to block out the sun a little. True to his word, Van led her straight to a woman’s stand with bushels of apples, and April was able to pick the handful she wanted. From there, they moved through the morning market, keeping their conversation safe, just like before. She talked about the merits of certain vegetables, though she was dying to chat with him about the market’s value from a business graduate’s perspective—the pros, the cons, the impact on the local economy. She’d been so buried in pointless retail drama since graduating that she hadn’t had time to exercise her brain, and this would have been the perfect opportunity.

But Van seemed busy either staring at her ass or the asses of other pretty women, and April quickly deduced that he wasn’t the type of guy to engage in a rousing business discussion anytime soon.

That wasn’t to say, however, that he lacked other appealing qualities. After taking her first bag, he refused to let her carry anything else that weighed over a couple of pounds, and by the time they were coming to the end of her list, he was overladen with her bags. Not once did he complain. Not once did she see a flicker of strain. He merely led her around the market, bringing her to whatever she needed without missing a beat.

“How do you know this place so well?” she asked finally, her curiosity getting the better of her. After all, no matter how natural he seemed there, a farmers’ market still struck her as the last place on Earth she’d ever find Van Palmer. He shrugged, his thick brown hair fluttering in the gentle breeze.

“I do most of the produce shopping for the bar,” he told her, and she nibbled her lower lip as she studied him, impressed. “We do an all-day lunch and app special Thursdays to Sundays, and I prefer to use local ingredients. It brings the customers in when you buy their product.”

“Huh.” She was sure it didn’t take much to bring the customers into a bar in a town like Cascade Falls. The town bustled with activity during the day, especially during the summer months, but there wasn’t much to do here at night. The movie theater had two screens and showed the “newest” releases for months on end, so the resort, restaurant, and bar industry had always flourished.

“You doing anything today?” Van asked, and without thinking, April shook her head. Aside from groceries and reorganizing an already organized apartment, her day was wide open. However, she quickly realized she’d given him an open, and she drew a breath to tell him a lie instead. The words fell flat when she saw him smiling, genuinely so. “Maybe after this we could—”

“April?” She turned away at the familiar voice, and her lips spread into a warm smile at the sight of Johnny Grissom. He hurried toward her, a plump golden retriever in tow, and set his bags down to hug her. “Oh my god! I didn’t know you were back in town!”

She hugged back, surprised at the outburst of affection. They’d been decent friends in high school, and, for a time, Johnny had been one of April’s school girl crushes. He was a year older, dashingly handsome, and had a reputation as the golden boy of his class back in the day. He hadn’t changed much with his strawberry-blond hair and dark blues eyes. Bulked up, yes, though he was starting to carry the beginnings of a small beer belly.

“Hi,” she said, laughing as they broke apart, his dog snuffling around her feet intrusively. “I… I didn’t really tell anyone. I’m just here to help my mom out.”

“Yeah, I heard she was getting married,” Johnny told her, nodding. His gaze then flicked over her shoulder, and his smile grew. “To
this
guy’s dad! How you doing, man? Family outing?”

He reached around her to shake Van’s hand, his free hand resting on April’s waist. She’d only just noticed it there, the pressure so light that she barely felt it—but Van was glaring daggers at it. Holding back a smile, April watched the two men shake hands, total opposites in appearances, each holding the other’s hand just a little too hard. Neither, it seemed, wanted to be the first to let go.

“What are you doing these days?” April asked, and she caught the flare of Van’s jaw again as the two men broke apart.

“Fighting fires,” Johnny replied with a nod. “You know… It’s a huge rush. What about you?”

“Oh, you know… This and that.”

They chatted for a few minutes, rehashing some of their lost time, and not once did Johnny remove his hand from her. By the time they said their farewells, his dog practically dragging him toward a meat stand and April promising she’d take up Johnny’s offer to go for drinks sometime, Van looked like he was about to hit the guy.

“Nice guy,” she said, hoping to add just a little extra salt to the wound before grabbing her bags again. Van followed her in silence, both of them headed for the exit of the market. By the time they’d reached Main Street, leaving the parking lot full of sellers and buyers behind, it seemed his mood have improved a little.

“Why don’t I carry these home?” he suggested, and while she knew she’d regret it, she shook her head.

“I can manage,” she insisted, dragging the bags away from him. He put up a bit of a fight at first, then he finally let her take everything. April hid a wince; all her groceries probably weighed as much as she did. When she caught him watching her, she cleared her throat and said, “I wanted to combine groceries with a workout, so… here we are.”