Page 28 of Striker

Josie calls out, “Striker, come back?” We both hear the worry in her voice. She’s finally found someone she likes and is worried about him disappearing.

To his credit, Striker turns around, walks over to the sofa and squats down in front of her. “Yeah, kiddo. I’m always gonna come back. So don’t you worry about that.”

She rolls forward, plants an innocent kiss on his cheek and bolts away. Josie is always so full of energy and enthusiasm for life. I envy that about her, because I feel like I’m dragging ass all the time these days.

Striker comes to his feet and glances at me on his way out the door. His expression is happy and a little worried. Maybe he senses what I do: that Josie is forming a bond with him and what that would mean if we parted ways. Neither of us wants to see her get hurt. I need to tell him about her. I really do. Even if things don’t work out with us, I want him to be a part of his daughter’s life.

He shuts the door behind him. I hear the lock snick shut and the alarm beep when he arms it from his cell phone. While I stand there, my daughter rolls over on her stomach and pretends to swim on the living room floor.

The throaty roar of his motorcycle engine fires to life. I can’t help but remember how strong and handsome he looks in his Sons of Rage cut. I go back and forth in my mind about whether or not Striker has changed or if he’s the same guy who accused me of using him to inform against his club. I’d like to believe he’s changed. At first, I couldn’t get past the ugly things he said. His words circled around in my head for three long years. Right now, it’s less about the words and more about how he could doubt our entire relationship.

We met randomly, fell in love, and he’s the one who synced his schedule with mine so we could work our side jobs together. That fact alone should have told him that I wasn’t the one trying to get close enough to manipulate him.

***

He comes back after church, the way he said he would, and greets Josie first. Without fanfare, he settles back down to his setup on the dining room table. Within moments he’s back in the zone, with data scrolling on all his screens.

I slide a cup of coffee onto the table beside him. Strong and black, just the way he likes it.

He grins as he reaches for it. “Thank you, darlin’. Did you have a good day?”

“Not bad. I took the pictures the prospects took of the furniture in my uncle’s house and posted them for sale on the local Cedar Falls social media page. It makes sense to sell what I can and tuck it away for Josie’s college fund.”

“That’s smart thinkin’. You can’t start too early. Higher education is getting to be expensive.”

We settle down to work, me checking e-mails on my phone and him scrolling on his computer.

I’m halfway through reading an e-mail from my probate attorney when Striker says fondly, “You still do that.”

When I look up from my phone, he’s smiling at me. When Striker smiles, it makes him twice as handsome at least.

“I still do what?” I ask, confused about what he’s talking about.

Jerking his chin towards my hand, he replies, “You rub your bottom lip with your thumb when you’re thinking hard about somethin’.”

I lower my hand. “I didn’t realize I did that.”

“You have a lot of cute little mannerisms. I’ve spent the last three years remembering all of them.”

“I’m surprised that you can even see me around all those monitors.”

“I make being eyes on with you a priority, darlin’.”

“How often do you stare at me? I’ve never noticed you doing it.”

“All the time. I’m stealthy. That’s why you don’t notice.”

“You mean you stare when I’m not looking, right?”

Smiling, I glance back down at my screen. “I look at you sometimes too. It’s hard not to because you’re a handsome man. Unfortunately, there is more to making a relationship work than mutual attraction.”

“Maybe there isn’t,” he suggests. “Maybe mutual attraction leads to love and wanting to spend a lifetime together.”

“It’s more complicated than that, babe.” I freeze as soon as the words come out of my mouth because this is the first time I’ve called him babe. I’m shocked at how easily we slipped back into terms of endearment.

“You called me babe. That’s what you used to call me before I fucked everything up.”

I drop the phone into my lap and look him in the eyes. “You want another chance, right?”