Page 7 of More Than Miles (Lost Kings MC 6)

  “Stop moving, Heidi,” I shout as calmly as I can given the circumstances. “Can you get a foothold?”

  “Yes.” Her scared voice reverberates through me.

  My wrist feels like it’s about to snap. But her frantic movements stop enough for me to inch forward. Peering over the ledge, I find her balancing on the tiniest stone jutting out like some ballerina-mountain-goat hybrid. Shit.

  I swing my other arm over. “Grab my other hand.”

  She’s clutching a tuft of grass growing out of the side of the ledge. “I’m scared to let go.”

  “Honey, I’m stronger than that bunch of weeds you got there.” As I say it, the patch tears loose. She lets out a short scream and grabs my outstretched hand.

  “I gotcha. Hang on to me and climb up. I’ll pull you back.”

  She whimpers but starts climbing while I inch back, scraping the shit out of my stomach and the undersides of my arms in the process. When her head and shoulders clear the ledge, I get a burst of energy and pull her up and over. She lands on me, wrapping her arms around my neck, crying against my shirt.

  “Shh, you’re okay. I got you.”

  She keeps shaking and crying.

  “Hey, what’s going on?”

  Oh, sure. Now there’s a park ranger.

  I crane my neck, peering up at the park cop. “My girl almost went over the side. How is there no fence there?”

  He ignores my question. “Need me to call an ambulance?”

  Heidi’s head snaps up. “No. We’re fine.”

  He studies her for a minute before addressing me. “Come down to the guard shack and you can file an incident report.”

  Yeah, I’ll get right on that.

  I help Heidi stand and brush the dirt off her. When I glance up, Officer Useless is already half-way down the trail. “Big help,” I grumble. “You okay?”

  “Your arms. You’re bleeding.”

  I don’t feel the sting until I lift my arms and see what she’s talking about. “Fuck.” I’m scraped to shit and have all sorts of pebbles digging into my skin.

  “We need to clean you up so you don’t get an infection.”

  “I’m fine. Let’s get out of here.”

  “You can’t ride like that.”

  “I’m fine,” I repeat, taking her hand.

  At my bike, she throws her arms around me. “Thank you.”

  “For what? Almost gettin’ you killed?” I’m so pissed with myself. I wanted to do something nice and instead she almost got hurt.

  “No. For being strong enough to pull me up.”

  I chuckle. “I may not have speed, but I’m strong.”

  “You’ve got quick reflexes to catch me like that.” She hugs me again and not wanting to get blood and dirt all over her, I just stand there with my arms out. “Are you mad at me?” she murmurs against my shirt.

  “No, honey.”

  She pulls back and looks me over. Her hand reaches out and tugs my shirt up. “What are you doing?”

  “You’re bleeding.” I glance down and find a few spots of blood that seeped through my shirt.

  “I’m fine. Let’s get out of here.”

  “Wait. There’s a first aid station—”

  “Are you hurt?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Then let’s go. I’ll get patched up at the clubhouse.”

  She opens her mouth to argue some more, but I thrust her helmet into her hands and strap mine on.

  At the clubhouse, she follows me into the kitchen, where I grab the first aid kit.

  “Let me do it?” she asks. “I’m a medical professional, remember?” she teases in a shaky voice. I get the feeling she needs to do this to calm herself down as much as she needs to patch me up.

  “Thank you.”

  “Let’s get this clean. We should have done it up there. You’re going to get an infection.” She fusses while she holds my arms over the deep kitchen sink and uses the sprayer to thoroughly spray down the scrapes. When she’s finished, she inspects me closely, flipping the water back over me a few times when she finds stray bits of rock or dirt. I grit my teeth and bear it, even though it stings like a bitch.

  Her hands are soft and gentle, and I’m impressed with her skill as she thoroughly fixes me up.

  “Your ink should be fine. The scrapes aren’t that deep.”

  I hadn’t even thought of that.

  She nods at my shirt. “Let me see your stomach.”

  “You trying to get me naked in the kitchen, Heidi?”

  One corner of her mouth quirks up. “No.”

  The damage there isn’t as bad as my arms. “You should really take a shower and clean it well. I can’t do it down here unless you want to climb in the sink. Then I need to wrap your arms.”

  I toss my shirt over my shoulder. “Come up with me?”

  She hesitates, but then gathers up the supplies and follows. I gesture for her to go first when we get to the staircase.

  Mistake.

  My arms and stomach may have been scraped raw, but the pain no longer registers. No, the only pain I’m feeling is the new one in my groin. I can’t keep my eyes off her little round ass in my face. Doesn’t matter that she’s covered in dirt and dust.

  She waits quietly while I open my door and leans up against the dresser. Her little jump when I close the door surprises me. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. It’s just weird being … in here. With you. Alone.”

  “Why? You’ve been in here before.”

  She shakes her head and glances down at the supplies in her hands. “Go take your shower. Make sure you clean out any stray bits of dirt.”

  “Want to come supervise?”

  Finally, she picks her head up, but she’s not smiling at my attempt at a joke. “That’s not a good idea.”

  “Purely medical reasons.”

  She flashes a quick smile but stays put.

  After I wash off, I get a better look at the scrapes on my stomach. They aren’t that bad. I kinda feel like a pansy letting Heidi take care of me, but I also like it. It’s a way to get her soft little hands all over me with no effort on my part.

  As much as I’m looking forward to having her hands on me, I can’t get the image of her falling over the ledge to stop repeating on a constant horrifying loop in my head.

  Stepping out of the shower, I snag a towel to dry off and wrap it around my hips. When I open the bathroom door, I find Heidi in the same spot.

  “You can sit.”

  She eyes my bed with something close to disgust on her face. “No, thanks.”

  I doubt it will make her feel better if I explain the only girl who’s slept over recently is Serena—you know because that whole “volume of women” accusation has been rattling in my head since she hurled it at me.

  I end up sitting on the edge and she kneels in front of me, which is awkward for a whole bunch of reasons.

  No, actually one big reason.

  I should have given more thought to parading around in a towel in front of Heidi. She seems to have the same thought and stands. “Hold your arm out.”

  Having her stand is almost worse. Now she’s pressing her breasts into my face. More blood rushes south, making the towel situation critical.

  I clear my throat and ask, “Are you almost done?”

  “Do you see a bandage on your other arm?” she snaps.

  “Great bedside manner, Bug.”

  She huffs and moves onto my other arm. When that’s finished, she runs her fingers over my stomach, coming dangerously close to my very-happy-at-the-moment trail.

  “I don’t think I need to bandage this. Your shirt must have taken the brunt of it.”

  “Heidi?”

  Slowly, she drags her gaze up my body and finally meets my eyes.

  I press my palms on either side of her face. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “For almost gettin’ you killed. Not lookin’ out for you better. I couldn’t live

with myself if something happened to you.”

  She doesn’t say anything.

  “Are you hurt anywhere?” I ask.

  “My shoulder. I wrenched it pretty good.”

  “Turn around.”

  “Can you put some pants on first?”

  “Uh.” Low laughter rumbles out of me. “Give me a second.”

  She moves so I can stand. Grabbing a pair of gym shorts out of my dresser, I duck into the bathroom and slip ‘em on. I pluck a small jar of Tiger Balm off a shelf, too.

  “Better?” I ask when I return.

  She glances up and gives me a shy smile. “Yes.”

  I don’t tease her about why she needed me to cover myself. I don’t point out that she feels what’s between us as much as I do. It feels as if we’ve called a truce, and I won’t do anything to break it.

  “Where’s it hurt?”

  All over. But the worst pain has nothing to do with going over the cliff. It’s the pain in my chest. From embarrassment that my clumsiness almost killed us. From the things Blake revealed to me before my epic flail.

  From being so close to him.

  I’ve never doubted my safety when I’ve been with Blake, and today he’s proved again that he’s as invincible as he is fearless.

  As I settle on the floor at his feet, all my physical aches demand attention.

  I shimmy the shoulder that’s bothering me. He gently gathers my hair in his hands and drapes it over my other shoulder. “Thanks.”

  “Can I check to see if it’s bruised?” His voice so rough and low, I shiver.

  I freeze, barely breathing. Time seems to stop. Tension shimmers between us or maybe that’s his heat, radiating against my back.

  “Yes,” I whisper, dropping my head so I’m staring at my hands, clasped in my lap.

  But he doesn’t lift my shirt like I expected. He tucks a finger in the collar and pulls it out. Warm breath tickles my neck and ear. This is almost worse than if he’d just asked me to remove it.

  “I can take it off.”

  He goes stock-still and I wonder if that was a mistake. He pulls back and waits quietly while I pull my shirt up and over my head, leaving it covering my arms and front.

  One finger, firm and rough, traces down my spine, skipping over my bra and stopping at my lower back. “You’re good,” he finally says.

  Before I have a chance to slip my shirt back on, he starts kneading my shoulder. More heat spreads over my skin as his warm, slippery fingers keep working.

  “What is that?”

  “Tiger Balm. It’ll help.”

  “Okay.”

  He keeps at it, using both hands, digging in. My head tips forward.

  “Am I hurting you?”

  “No, that feels good.”

  I untangle my right arm from my shirt and hold it out. “My arm hurts too.”

  He doesn’t say a word, but works his hands down my arm.

  “Other one?”

  I slip my left arm out and hold it up.

  “How’d you get so good at this?” As soon as I ask, I wish I hadn’t. Now I can’t stop picturing him with other girls.

  “I like taking care of you, Heidi,” he answers.

  Not the answer I expected. But his soothing voice slides over me like honey.

  This has to end.

  My hands grapple with my shirt.

  “You want one of my shirts to wear?” he asks.

  “No, I’ve got clothes here. In my room. Down the hall.”

  Blake’s hands falter. “Better?”

  No, not at all. That’s why I need to get out of here.

  “I think so. Thank you.”

  His hands disappear and I hate the cold air that replaces the warmth of his touch. Finally, I find the armholes and slip my shirt back on.

  I turn and find him watching me. “Do you want to go out to dinner?” he asks. “I was thinking we could go down to Hog Heaven?”

  Not fair. He knows how much I love that place.

  “They have Coffee Toffee Pie this week,” he says with an enticing tone. The corner of his mouth quirks up because he knows I can’t resist the special pie they only serve a few times a year.

  “Yes.”

  Balancing on his leg, I pull myself off the floor. It was a stupid thing to do, because we end up face to face.

  And he doesn’t miss the opportunity to place his hands on my cheeks and pull me even closer for a kiss.

  A kiss that goes on longer than it should.

  I pull away but not because of the kiss. “Your hands are all sticky.” I swipe at the smelly ointment that’s now smeared on my face.

  “Shit. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. I forgot.”

  He strides into the bathroom and the water starts running. I wander over and find him scrubbing his hands. “That stuff works great, but it’s a bitch to get off,” he mumbles. “Come here, let me clean your face.”

  “It’s not that bad.”

  Still, he takes a washcloth and dabs at the spots on my cheeks.

  “Better?”

  “Yes.”

  He keeps staring at me, moving closer until I have no choice but to back up. I find myself against the wall looking up at him. Whisper quiet, he presses his palms against the wall on either side of my shoulders.

  “Blake?” My voice comes out hushed.

  “Are we ever going to talk about your birthday?”

  “What about it?”

  “Don’t. You feel this as much as I do. We almost—”

  “I know what we almost did. It would have been a mistake.”

  Pain flickers over his face and my chest tightens. I can’t stand hurting him. “The love I have for you will never be a mistake, Heidi.”

  “I—”

  He cuts me off with a kiss that I sink right into—for a moment. Abruptly, he pulls away. “Go change. I want to take you to dinner.”

  I’m too dizzy to respond, but that doesn’t stop Blake from placing his hand on my lower back and guiding me to the door. “What are you doing?”

  “Taking care of you.”

  He opens the door and we step into the hallway, smacking right into my brother.

  His forehead wrinkles and his eyes light up. “Heidi? What’re you doing here?” His angry glare shoots to Blake. “Why’s she in your room, bro?”

  “Knock it off, Marcel. I was patching up his arms.”

  A little of his anger disappears. For fuck’s sake, is my brother ever going to back off and realize I’m eighteen years old?

  Blake nudges me again. “Go change and meet me downstairs.”

  I eye my brother, trying to figure out if he’ll behave himself, then reach up to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Chill, would ya?”

  He gives me a quick hug then sniffs me. “You reek of menthol. What the hell?”

  My mouth quirks up. “I’ll let Murphy explain.”

  Teller waits until Heidi’s door shuts before jabbing his finger in my chest, knocking me back into my room.

  “Quit it, dick. We weren’t doing anything.”

  He glances at my bandaged arms. “Tell me you didn’t lay your bike down with my sister on the back.”

  “No.” Fuck. I decide to give him the quickest version of what happened. “She fell at the park and I scraped myself up catching her. That’s all.”

  “What the fuck were you two doing at the park?”

  “Talking.”

  His eyes narrow. “You know I love you, brother. And I understand how you feel about my sister, but don’t go putting her in an awkward place. You know she’s with Axel.”

  I don’t even know what to do with that so I just stare at him like an idiot.

  “She can’t say no to you. Don’t push her into stuff that’s gonna make her feel bad later.”

  “I…” Fuck. That’s exactly what I’ve been doing. Is that why she spent the last couple weeks avoiding me? I figured she was pissed. I shake my head, but Teller knows me too well. We can practically read each ot

her’s minds after all these years. “Yeah, okay.”

  “I’ll take her home,” Teller says, making it clear it’s not up for debate.

  “I wanted to take her to dinner.”

  He cocks his head as if asking if I heard anything he said.

  “Friends eat dinner, you know.” It sounds lame, even to me, but we stare each other down for a few minutes before I back off. Now’s not the time to get into it with my best friend.

  “Fine.”

  I need a minute to replay the afternoon and think over the things he said.

  For reasons I don’t want to think about, I’m anxious while I wait downstairs. Sparky’s hanging out in the living room, so I end up talking to him while I wait.

  It’s my brother who finally comes downstairs. Not Blake.

  Marcel ushers me out the door without speaking. Outside, in the parking lot, I shake out of his hold. “Wait a second. Where’s Blake?”

  “Upstairs. He’s tired.”

  “What?”

  He pushes me into his truck and shuts the door.

  Tired of being manhandled, I hop right back out. “What do you mean he’s tired? We were going to—”

  “Get back in the truck.”

  “No.”

  “Heidi,” he warns. “Leave him alone and get in the truck.”

  I don’t answer, but I hoist myself back inside his big, jacked-up ride.

  “What are you compensating for with this monster truck?” I ask when he slams his door.

  “Very funny.”

  “You didn’t hit Blake, did you?”

  “No. Should I have?”

  “No! Why are you being such a—”

  “Careful, little sister.”

  I hate this. I hate when he pushes me into acting like a brat. I’ve been trying so hard lately, but sometimes he pushes all my bratty-little-sister buttons.

  “He said you fell at the park. You okay?”

  Unsure of just how much Blake told my brother, I say as little as possible. “I’m fine.”

  “Why were you up in his room?”

  “Jeez. I already told you. I helped him bandage up his arms.”

  “Are you hurt?”

  “No.”