Scars of Yesterday (Sons of Templar MC Book Book 8) Page 20

  “I’m interested,” I blurted out, not entirely of my own volition. “I’m a beer girl mostly, but I won’t turn down wine either. Though I’m not entirely sophisticated in my drinking habits, which horrifies some of my more cultured friends. And you definitely look like a guy who knows things about wine. So as long as you don’t judge me.”

  A smile hooked his lips. “Judge you? Never. As long as you don’t judge the fact that I’m partial to a glass of rosé as opposed to whisky on the rocks or more masculine drink that is more masculine.”

  I smiled back. Mine was mostly forced but that didn’t matter. “Okay, it’s a deal.”

  “It’s a date,” he corrected.

  I’d thought about cancelling about one hundred times since then. Especially since the night before the date another man had been inside me.

  But I didn’t cancel. Precisely because of the man who had been inside me last night. It was meant to be just sex. It was meant to be the way I got my needs sated. No strings. Men did this all the time, got younger women, used them for sex and felt nothing.

  But I was not a person who felt nothing. I was a woman who felt it all. Even before Ranger took my books from my arms all those years ago. My mother had tried to discipline it out of me, my emotional tendencies. Emotionality didn’t become a lady, apparently. But she’d failed. My marriage, my life had been full of all sorts of emotions. Pain. Joy. Love. Heartbreak. Fear. Rage. The feelings weren’t always good, but never had I gone a moment without being consumed by feelings.

  After losing Ranger, something broke in me. It had needed to. As a sensitive person, I wouldn’t have been able to survive if I’d actually let myself feel all of my grief and pain. It would have destroyed me. So my body and mind worked together, entering survival mode. Dulling down the edges of my feelings. It still hurt, of course. I’d have to be dead not to feel this pain, but everything was muted.

  Hence me making the decision to take Kace to bed. Yes, I was still fooling myself into thinking that had been a conscious decision within my control. I had figured that with my heart so broken, my insides so torn and gnarled, that there’d be no way my soul would ever let me feel anything again.

  But something was growing. In the rotten soil of my heart. And the best way to kill it was to go on this date. Not ending things with Kace, no. But I couldn’t get too wrapped up in him. So the date was my plan.

  “You sure you’re okay to babysit?” I asked Mia, walking into the room, fastening my earrings at the same time.

  Her eyes were glued to The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. The kids were in their respective rooms doing their homework, as asked, like aliens had come in and invaded their bodies.

  “Okay?” Mia repeated, pausing the episode. “I should be paying you for the opportunity to sit here and watch television gold without worrying about the men in my house spontaneously combusting because I dared to binge reality television. Any time you need to—”

  She stopped speaking when she turned her head to look at me. Her eyes flared, and she made a low whistling sound.

  “Girl. Wow.”

  I smiled. Though I wasn’t usually one to agree with such statements, considering the caliber of women I was always around, I thought I looked pretty wow too.

  I figured that Edmond wasn’t the kind of guy who appreciated leather pants and snakeskin boots.

  Not that I was about to change myself for a man, but I wanted to try him on, so to speak.

  I was wearing a beige skirt that Gwen had leant me then refused to take back, saying it looked better on me. Which was a total lie, but I’d learned after all these years that you couldn’t argue with Gwen. So I’d kept the skirt, thinking I might have use for it on some anniversary or occasion when Ranger and I decided to go fancy. He’d done that for me sometimes. Surprised me with a dinner at one of the nicest restaurants in town, or a hotel, a spa. For no special reason.

  I’d never gotten to wear the skirt with Ranger. So I was wearing it for another man. For another life I’d been forced into.

  The skirt fit snug around my ass, cupping everything expertly, forcing me to wear the skimpiest underwear I could because according to Amy, ”visible panty lines should be a crime”.

  My tank was loose, edged with cream lace, tucked into the skirt. I’d gone with studded, spiked heels and various jewelry. My hair was up in a messy bun, and I was wearing more makeup than I had in a long while.

  “Momma, you look beautiful,” Lily said, coming from the hallway. Her wide eyes trailed over my outfit. I already knew that I had a little fashionista on my hands. Especially with Gwen and Amy’s influence.

  A smile stretched my lips. “Thank you, baby.”

  Jack walked in after his sister, heading for the fridge. “Where are you going again?”

  “You know, you should always compliment a woman who’s made an effort with her appearance before asking questions,” I told my son.

  He rolled his eyes, sighing dramatically. “You look very pretty,” he retorted.

  I smiled wider. “You’re just the sweetest, Jack. Thank you.”

  “Where are you going?” he repeated.

  “To dinner with a friend,” I replied. No way was I telling my kids I was going on a date. Lily would get the wrong idea, likely getting overly excited. Jack, on the other hand, would not be excited.

  As it was, he was already suspicious. “What friend?”

  “An old friend from college. Is that okay with you?” I gathered things into my purse, making sure to concentrate on it so I didn’t have to look at my son’s face while I lied to him.

  “I guess,” he muttered, pulling a juice box from the refrigerator.

  I looked to Mia. “I’ve got lasagna in the fridge, if you want that?”

  She waved her hand. “No, the kids have the cool babysitter tonight. So it’s takeout. Loads of it. Whatever they want. And that homework stuff is stopping as soon as your mother leaves, dude,” she winked at Jack.

  I just grinned.

  Even Jack’s mouth twitched ever so slightly. No one was immune to Mia’s charms.

  “I won’t be late,” I said to Mia.

  “You can be as late as you want,” she replied. “We’re totally good here. Just let me know if there’s anything on fire when you drive past my house, won’t you?”

  “Of course,” I said seriously, such a prospect not actually outside the realm of possibility.

  Edmond had made reservations at Valentines.

  We were meeting there, despite him trying to convince me to let him pick me up. He was very old fashioned, it seemed, because I’d had to be pretty damn firm about driving myself. It irritated me in a way it shouldn’t have. He was only being polite. Chivalrous. But I had said no once. I’d always thought you shouldn’t have to say no to a good man more than once.

  Then again, what did I really know about good men?

  They didn’t exist.

  There were only shades of gray.

  I arrived exactly on time, which was only because Mia had arrived at my place early

  He was already waiting at the table when the hostess led me to it. It was a good one. Tucked away in the corner, romantic lighting, view of the town below, the ocean beyond that.

  “Elizabeth, you look beautiful,” he said, standing as soon as I approached the table. He leaned in to kiss my cheek, lingering just a bit longer than I’d expected. His cologne smelled expensive and not overpowering. But I didn’t like it. My body tensed the second his lips touched my cheek.

  If he noticed, he didn’t let on.

  “You look very handsome yourself,” I sat after he pulled out my chair for me.

  And he did. He wore a very stylish suit. Expensive but not flashy. Well-tailored. No tie. He was clean shaven, his dark hair gelled to the side, not one strand out of place. There was a very large and pricey looking watch on his wrist. Nice hands. I knew if I looked at his palms that there wouldn’t be calluses from working on cars, no oil stains. He most likely got manic
ures.

  “I took the liberty of ordering a bottle of wine for us.” He nodded to the bottle in the middle of the table. “So it has time to breathe.”

  I bit the inside of my lip. It was a nice gesture. A romantic gesture. But what if I didn’t like wine? I didn’t want some pretentious bottle of wine that needed to breathe. I liked beer, I’d told him that, hadn’t I? Sure, wine was great too. But I liked the pink, chilled stuff. A red was great, too, but I usually kept it under fifteen dollars. Ranger and I had always kept a nice selection of faithful bottles in our rotation.

  Admittedly, I wasn’t really worried about how the alcohol tasted lately, just how well it numbed.

  But none of these things were appropriate to say on a first date. Nor was thinking about what Kace would’ve done for a first date. He’d probably take me on a picnic or stop by a food truck on a ride down the coast. That was definitely more my speed.

  “That’s perfect,” I lied with a painted-on smile.

  I tried to push away my irritation, focusing on putting my napkin on my lap, grabbing the menu and studying it.

  I wondered if I could hide behind it the entire night.

  “I had a great time,” I voiced through gritted teeth.

  It wasn’t a lie, exactly.

  Okay, it was a total fucking lie. I didn’t have a great time. But that had nothing to do with him.

  Okay, another lie.

  It had a lot to do with him.

  Not because he was a bad guy.

  Or maybe because he wasn’t a bad guy. He was too ironed, perfumed, polite. With the wine, with him recommending what I should order that would pair well with the wine. Yuck.

  He had asked me questions about myself, about my kids. I might’ve imagined the slightly snide look on his face when I’d told him I had been a stay-at-home mother all these years.

  I’d asked him questions too. Mostly because I wanted to stop talking about myself, not because I really cared about his history.

  He grew up in New York state, to what I could gather was a wealthy family. Had what seemed like a trouble-free upbringing. One brother, one sister. Went to college, law school. Worked in the city for years. Divorced. No kids. Always wanted them, apparently.

  He came to Amber after his divorce because he needed to slow down. He was adjusting to Amber well, at least that’s what he said. Though I got the impression small town life didn’t exactly suit him.

  There were no awkward silences throughout the date. He seemed genuinely interested in me. Seemed to like me.

  “It was an enchanting evening,” he responded as he walked me to my car.

  Ugh. Enchanting? Who said that unsarcastically?

  I dug through my purse for my keys, cursing myself for not doing it sooner because now he’d have an excuse to linger by my car. It wasn’t exactly late, but there’d been three courses. Then after dinner coffee. So the parking lot was emptying, and there weren’t many cars around where I’d parked.

  “I’d love to do it again sometime soon, maybe next week?” Edmond asked, hand on the small of my back as it had been since we’d left the restaurant.

  I moved so my back faced the car, getting away from his touch, my hands thankfully finding the keys.

  “Yeah, I’ll have to check the kids’ schedule,” I hedged, smiling. “The joys of motherhood, my time is not my own.”

  He smiled back. His teeth were too white. “I’d love to meet them sometime.”

  No way. “Um, yeah. I’m kind of... protective over them. With everything that happened. It’s not personal.”

  He nodded. “Of course. I’m getting ahead of myself.” His eyes flickered over my body before he met my eyes again. “I really do hope that I’ll meet them. That we continue this. You’re a beautiful woman, Elizabeth.”

  That was another thing. I’d told him at least three times over all of our interactions to call me Lizzie. He was like my mother who had a strong distaste for Lizzie. For any casual nicknames, really. She’d named me after a regal woman, and regal women were not called Lizzie, apparently.

  I swallowed roughly. Crap. He was going in for a kiss. My entire body recoiled from just the thought. Which was insane. He was an attractive, polite and cultured man. So much safer and more responsible than what I was used to. Unlikely to be killed by multiple gunshot wounds.

  “Thank you,” I said in little more than a whisper. “I’ve, uh, got to get home.” I jangled my keys. “Kids. Early morning soccer game.”

  Edmond smiled. “Of course.” He didn’t step back, though. In fact, he stepped forward so our bodies brushed. I held my breath as he leaned in, moving my face at the last minute so his lips found my cheek instead of my mouth.

  To his credit, he didn’t seem pissed off or offended by the rejection. His lips lingered before he straightened. They were dry, and I fucking hated the way they felt on my skin.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow?”

  He would call me tomorrow too. No games. No waiting three days or whatever it is Ashley told me guys did these days.

  “Sure,” I said, thinking of how the fuck I was going to let him down gently during tomorrow’s phone call. In reality, I’d probably be a coward and send it to voicemail. But tonight, I had higher hopes for myself.

  Edmond opened my car door after I beeped it open. Polite. But somehow it felt domineering. And not in the good way.

  This would not have been the end of the night if I’d been with Kace.

  Who I felt myself longing for.

  Chapter 14

  I had managed the almost impossible feat of escaping Mia’s demands for the ‘lowdown’ on the date. Though I wasn’t exactly sure I even knew how or why I’d done that. Maybe it was the look on my face that wasn’t exactly saturated in elation or lust that had her giving me a break. That or the fact that she had ordered takeout from three different places and was in a walking food coma.

  Whatever it was, I had respite for the night, at least. I’d muted my phone, too, not ready to even look at all the texts I’d received. Tomorrow was another day.

  Tonight was a cheap, pink wine kind of night. I’d done my best to pretend I’d actually liked the bottle he’d chosen, but it was bitter and heavy and totally not something that took the edges off anything.

  I was on my second glass, standing at the kitchen counter, staring out the window when I felt it. There was someone in my house. Someone watching me.

  Crap.

  Ranger’s guns were in our bedroom. Because we lived a life where it was totally plausible that we might need them in a hurry, they were kept where the kids couldn’t get them, but close enough for him to grab in a hurry. He’d trained me relentlessly when he first patched in. I’d hated it at first, but once I’d accepted guns as part of our life, I liked them. Knowing that I was capable of defending myself. My family, if need be. As much as I loved my protective, alpha male husband, I did not love the idea of being some damsel that always needed to be saved.

  And now that I was the only point of defense in my home, I should’ve been more aware. There were two humans relying on me to keep them safe.

  I turned, ready to throw my wine glass. To attack. Claw off the face of the fucker who would dare to put what remained of my family in danger.

  But it wasn’t a home invader, murderer or rapist standing in my kitchen. No, it was a man wearing a Sons of Templar cut.

  “How did you get in here?” I demanded, glaring at Kace, hating that everything inside of me heated up at his mere presence. All of the things that I’d tried to make myself feel all night, finally making themselves known.

  “I’m an outlaw, Lizzie,” was his explanation. His voice was off. Cold. Dangerous. Same with his face. There was nothing easy or familiar about the way he was looking at me. No, Kace was giving me a glimpse of the man he was when the Sons needed him to be cold, fierce, deadly.

  And I fucking loved it. My thighs pressed together with need.

  “Kace, you shouldn’t be here,” I said, fighting t
o keep my voice even. Battling to sound convincing.

  He raised a brow, a silent challenge of my lie.

  “You gave this to another man?” Kace growled, eyes running over me.

  Fire and ice left a trail in they’re wake.

  “Kace,” I began, not quite sure what I was planning on saying next.

  He didn’t give me a chance to say anything else because he was there, right there. His hands were on my hips first. Then they went their separate ways, one going down, moving to cup my ass firmly. The other went up my ribcage to knead my breasts.

  Air hissed from my mouth as my entire body responded to him.

  “That’s okay,” he murmured against my lips. “That you went out with another man, let him think he had a chance of doing anythin’. That you put this on for him.” He fisted the fabric of my skirt. “That you got all dolled up like this for him.” His hand moved to my hair, tugging at the strands to the point of pain.

  My knees were in danger of failing me.

  “Because I’m the one who gets this.” His hand moved quickly under my skirt. Kace didn’t move slow or tenderly once he reached the lace of my underwear, he went right in, coating his fingers with my wetness before plunging them inside.

  I let out a muffled cry.

  “Yeah,” he grumbled, his mouth moving at my neck. “You weren’t this wet for that fuck in the suit.” His fingers kept moving with expert grace, my orgasm building from the bottom of my stomach.

  “You wouldn’t let him in,” he continued, mouth moving down as his other hand yanked my dress so my nipple was exposed. “No fuckin’ bra,” he hissed before he landed his mouth on my nipple.

  Every nerve ending in my body felt electrified. I made another sound, or tried to. He was commandeering all of my motor skills. I was his.

  “You’re not gonna let some lawyer fuck you like I do,” he informed me, removing his mouth to look me in the eyes.

  He pulled out his fingers, and I moaned at the loss. At the orgasm he’d stolen with his retreat.

  He stepped back, and it was all I could do not to sink to the floor.