The Run (The Hell's Disciples MC Book 4) (7 page)

“It was a headband,” I say to him sadly. I carefully take the crumpled mess of flowers from him. Jesus, his big hands just annihilated the poor delicate flowers. Looking them over, I surmise they’re unsalvageable.

“A headband?”

“Yeah, you know, a thing that goes around your head.”

“That shit ain’t going on my head.”

The image of a knitted ring of flowers on Buck’s head is something I’d pay good money to see.

“What do you mean? You won’t wear it?” I ask him sarcastically, pouting my lips.

“Fuck no.”

“Relax, it wasn’t for you.” Is he serious? Did he honestly think I’d make such a thing for him?

We sit in silence. After a while, Buck gets up, sticking the gun back in the waist of his jeans. “Up. Making dinner.” He holds out a hand to me. Yeah, I could eat. Taking his hand, he pulls me up to my feet. I land with a little bounce. His hand is rough and callused, and he holds onto it for a few seconds, staring at me before he decides to let go.

He turns and starts to walk off. Without stopping, he lets out an ear-piercing whistle. “Let’s go, Bill!” Slapping his thigh, the dog leaps up and runs up behind Buck, dancing around his heels.

Trailing behind Buck, I holler after him. “Why do you just let Bill roam the woods?” That can’t be safe out here with wild animals and shit. He might get eaten.

He turns his head back and looks at me like I’m crazy for asking. “Darlin’, he’s a hunting dog.” That means absolutely nothing to me.

“So?”

“So, he’s a tough little fucker,” he replies, running a hand down the dogs back. Looking down at Bill, I smile. He’s not a fucker, he’s a sweet beast.

“Just like his master?” I muse more to myself than to Buck, but of course he hears me. Smiling back at me, he lifts a brow. He fucking smiled. Good lord, what a smile it is.

“Exactly, darlin’.”

Sitting on the deck railing with Bill under my swinging feet, I watch Buck work. His back is to me. He’s got a beer in one hand and a spatula in the other as he mans the grill and bullshits with his guys.

Buck’s not talking to me. He’s not even looking at me. I might as well be invisible. But really, it’s okay because I can stare at him without being interrupted or caught.

Buck is a man’s man. You can tell in the way he holds himself; back straight, head held high, and a face full of ‘I don’t give a fuck.’ You might mess with Buck, but then again, you might end up dead.

He looks fine as hell in his black T-shirt, faded Carhartts, and a black backwards cap. He even has his glasses off. It’s that something more he seems to exude, and he doesn’t even know it.  

In the short time I’ve been here with him, I’ve learned that he says exactly what he’s thinking, when he thinks it, and he has no filter. I like that about him.

“Cheese, babe?” A nudge to my leg brings me back to the porch. Pulling my eyes up to Buck’s, I smile when I catch him staring intently at me. I can see him fighting the urge to put his glasses back on. I hate that his eyes bother him enough to make him think about it. “Lennon?”

“What?” I ask, looking up into those crazy, beautiful eyes of his.

“Cheese. That square, fake yellow shit you put on your burger. You eat it?” Right, he was asking me if I wanted cheese.

“No, thank you.” I’m not a huge fan of it.

“Here ya go then.”

Loaded plate in hand, I sit myself on the steps of the deck. Buck, Rock, and Poncho sit around an old wooden spool eating, drinking, and talking about bikes. I don’t even attempt to sit with them. I don’t have shit to add to the conversation, so I figure I’ll eat down here with Bill.

I pick at my food and stare into the woods. I get lost in thought about life and what I plan on doing with mine, which isn’t much. If I’m being honest with myself, I’ve never been able to get it together. I’m a drifter, despite my best efforts at holding down a job and keeping a home. I’ve tried, but apparently I’m not good enough because my whole life has been reduced to a duffle bag, hat box, purse, and two boxes stored in a closet far away, a place I haven’t been to in years.

It’s not that I’m too good or above a “normal” life, I’m just not good at it. Jobs last a month or two at best, and staying in one place for too long has never been my strong suit. Just the word “normal” has never really appealed to me, even though I’ve tried like hell to accept it and live it. I’m not sure I will ever be that person because I’m not happy unless I’m free. I just want to see where life takes me. I’ve only got one, right? Someday I’ll die, but at least I can say I tried, yet being free to live my life the way I wanted to will help me go with a smile on my face. No regrets.

Scooping up my burger, I take a hardy bite before it gets cold. I can’t help but smile to myself—Buck can cook. I hear someone walk up behind me. Tipping my head back, there’s Buck standing over me.

“Hey,” I mumble around a mouth full of food, chewing slowly, trying not to choke. I eye him, wondering what could be urgent enough to pull him away from his people.

“Going for a ride, you down?”

“You want me to come?” He’s hot. He’s cold. One minute it’s blank stares and one word responses, the next it’s half smiles and an invitation. Buck doesn’t give me a chance to answer. Holding out a hand, he jerks his chin up and says, “Up. Let’s ride. You can eat later.”

3 - Outdoorsy

Buck

I watched Lennon sit there, alone, looking lost in her head, so I figured I’d take her for a ride to entertain her, give her some company.

I’m not sure why I asked, but I’m not going to analyze it to death. It is what it is, and I’m just going with it. I’m not very good at making bitches happy, and my ex is clearly a prime fucking example, but riding seemed to make her happy so I thought I’d give it a go. I threw her on the back, rode down the mountain, and headed down the highway towards the river. It’s the perfect night for a ride.

“Hold these.” Lennon thrusts her chucks at me before walking off down the dirt path as fast has her tiny feet can carry her.

“You know where you’re going?” I ask, following behind her.

“Nope.” She responds, hopping over a fallen log.

“Babe, you’re gonna fall ‘n bust your ass.” She’s gotta be shitting me right now. Barefoot, she’s about to scale giant ass rocks and old logs to get down to the river. I swear to fuck if she falls, I’m leaving her here.

“Relax,” She laughs, leaping onto a rock like a fucking fairy. Easy for her to say, she’s not watching someone climb water-soaked logs and mossy boulders like a goddamn trapeze artist. I can already see it. She’s gonna slip and crack her goddamn head open, and I’m going to have to take a bleeding Lennon to the hospital.

“Just watch it. Don’t need ya dying on me.” That’d ruin my night.

“Yeah, yeah.” She waves me off with another laugh. Glad she finds my concern funny.

I brought her to the river access, a mile off the highway where the Columbia River dips in towards the mountains and slows a bit. It’s fucking beautiful here. Thought she’d get a kick out of it considering she seems to enjoy being outside. She’s smiling, so I guess I did something right.

I watch her walk around, picking up rocks and walking in the water.

“This is the Columbia River, right?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s beautiful here,” she says, her long hair hanging in her face. She flips it over her shoulder and looks at me with a heartbreaking smile on her face. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

“Sure.”

Lennon acts like she doesn’t have a single care in the world. No self-preservation, that’s for damn sure. Lennon seems easy going, down for whatever. I like that about her.

Sitting on a picnic table, I watch her wander. “Be fuckin’ careful,” I tell her when she wobbles on top of a rock. I’m up and off the picnic table in a goddamn heartbeat. “Jesus, Lennon.”

She shakes her head at me and rolls her big browns at me. I’m glad she’s enjoying this.

“Relax,” she says. I don’t relax, ever.

“You fuckin’ relax.”

“Not a problem. I’m cool.” She stops and sits on top of a boulder half sunk into the river.

Dusk is setting in over the Columbia. The air is cooling down and the clouds are rolling in. The surf is calm and the sun is falling behind the waves. It’s almost as beautiful as the girl I’m with.

We sit for a while until she’s back at it, wandering the banks of the river.

Lennon shares some things with me as I follow behind her, talking about this and that, telling me stories about shit I’d usually ignore coming from any other woman’s mouth. I like listening to her. There’s something about her, and I find myself enjoying it, rather than feeling irritated. I don’t care to listen to bitches prattle on about shit, but for her, I’m making an exception.

She’s wanders up and down the shore for about an hour, collecting all kinds of shit in her little hands, smiling as she goes. She’s happy, and I’ll be damned it that doesn’t makes me happy. Not sure why that is, but there’s something peaceful and calming about her. She’s something special. 

All that long black hair blowing around a pretty, smiling face, the look in her dark eyes. It’s like this is the happiest she’s ever been, and it’s addictive.

Sitting back on the picnic table, boots on the bench and my back to the highway, I can take some time to appreciate the situation for what it is. Lennon is here and I’m actually good with it.

I get up and walk over to her. “It’s getting late, darlin’.”

Nodding, she reaches for my outstretched hand and I pull her up the little hill to help her along.

“Buck?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we come back here soon?”

“Yeah.” I’ll come back here anytime, as long as it’s with her.

Lying on what I used to consider a pretty comfortable couch, I stretch out and hit my fucking head on the armrest. I’m way too goddamn big for this lumpy ass couch to consider it my permanent sleeping spot. 

My head’s crammed into the corner and my legs hang over the other arm of the couch. I can’t get comfortable for shit. I hadn’t realized I liked my bed so fucking much until I was exiled to the couch.

The loose floorboard in the hall whines.

Lennon.

Shifting onto my side, I crane my neck to see her. I stare down the dark hallway, waiting for her to walk out. A moment later, a half-naked Lennon comes tiptoeing into the living room. She’s creepin’. Wearing nothing but a big old T-shirt, she’s barelegged, as usual. She walks right in and right up to me. Leaning forward she stares at me, her nose wrinkled up and her eyes squinted. I have to fight the fucking laugh that’s trying to force its way out. Jesus, what’s she doing?

Giving me a final head to toe, she shakes her head, as if she’s satisfied with my residence here on the couch. Turning her ass around, she sneaks off into the kitchen. Bumping into the counter, she mutters “Shit,” pretty goddamn loud. Bare feet slapping against the tile of the kitchen floor, this broad couldn’t sneak up on a deaf motherfucker.

Bending that big fine ass over, she pulls the fridge door open and starts digging around. Now I pride myself on the ability to keep shit cool—I’m not usually compulsive—but right now I’m having a fuck of a time not hopping up off this couch and doing something fucking crazy.

The little black piece of material she’s got covering her ass rides up, barely covering it, but all I’m seeing is the smooth, tan skin that would look beautiful with my handprint welted on it.

I’d already noticed it, but I’m only now taking the time to really look at it. On her thigh is a big fucking skull, wearing a feathered headdress with black feathers wrapping around to the back, just below her ass cheek. A black Indian style arrow starts right at the bottom of her ass, travels down the middle of the back of her thigh, stopping at the back of her knee, the feathers worked into the arrow. It’d be fucking cool if her big plump ass weren’t so goddamn distracting.

This shit just isn’t going to work. I’m a man for fuck’s sake. I can’t have a broad like Lennon living with me looking like she does and wearing the shit she wears. I only have so much self-control.

“Lennon?” Yelping, she leaps up, spinning around to face me. Her eyes are fucking huge in her pretty little face. A chocolate bar is clutched against her chest as she heaves out a breath.