Dawn
Rosalie
The sun was shining when my eyes opened.
So it was a sun-washed, tanned, defined, partially tatted male torso that my eyes hit the instant they opened.
I knew where I was.
I was in my new bed in the carriage house pressed down the side of Snapper.
And I knew why I was there.
I’d scratched the surface of precisely how extraordinary being a part of Chaos was.
But more, I’d dug deeper into just how extraordinary having Snapper in my life could be.
To say Carissa and Joker had filled my cupboards was an understatement. It was a wonder the kitchen didn’t sink down into the foundations a foot, it was groaning so much from food.
We made a dent in it eating chips and dip and sandwiches and drinking beer and wine, cosmos and tequila shooters (I just had beer).
It was all fine and dandy until (what it did not take very long to learn was) a hilarious woman named Elvira came over with her incredibly handsome fiancé Malik and then all hell broke loose when she and Mom talked the other women into playing quarters on my coffee table.
I decided to hang on the floor in the corner by the stairs with Snap and Joker, letting Travis and Nash (Lanie and Hop’s son) crawl all over us.
We got into tickle wars, fake wrestling, and generally being human jungle gyms while chatting. Or the men did this. Any time one of the little ones did something that might jar me, Snap snatched them up and let them crawl all over him.
It was sweet.
It was Snap.
And seeing how amazing he was with kids was doing a number on me.
While we sat and drank and played with the boys, we talked about Joker’s builds (he was young, younger than me, but he’d become the guy at Ride who designed and built their custom bikes and cars), Carissa’s plans to become a hair stylist, and going through properties on Snap’s phone that he was considering adding to his real estate empire.
It was then I learned that he didn’t just buy them. He bought them, fixed them up like the one we were in, then rented them undoubtedly at high rates in order to attract a certain tenant that wouldn’t give him shit or leave his places trashed and probably lined his world with cash.
He wasn’t trying to be a real estate mogul.
But as I listened to him talk casually to Joker about how he handled six properties, his work at Ride, and his work with the Club, like it was nothing, not to mention looking to add to his modest but growing dynasty, he just simply was.
A biker becoming a mogul.
It was impressive.
It was attractive.
And it was surprising, but listening to him, I realized it was another side of what was all just Snap.
The older men kicked back on my furniture surrounding the women who were on their asses or their knees around my coffee table as they proceeded to loudly and hilariously get smashed playing a game only college students were unwise enough to play.
In that time, listening to the talk, enjoying the laughter, I did this assessing my surroundings.
And I decided on a smaller dining room table so I could have another seating area on that side of the house, definitely a reading nook so that chair could be dragged in when I had company, and a portable crib that I could keep in the garage (this last I added when Travis passed out on Joker’s chest, and to my utter agony and profound delight, Nash did the same on Snap).
The women got shitfaced and loud, all but Carissa, who was surprisingly crazy-good at quarters.
Eventually their men peeled them off the floor as they declared undying love for each other, gave shit to their men for spoiling the fun, and made plans to get shitfaced again, and soon, all the while their men guided them into their coats, out the door, and then poured them in their trucks.
Except Joker and Carissa, who stayed, hanging with Mom, Snap, and me, them cuddled on one side of my couch, curled around each other providing a human crib for Travis, Mom in my armchair, and me and Snap cuddled into the other side of my couch.
Yes, I said cuddled.
I wasn’t being stupid, stupid Rosalie.
I was being stupid, dreamer, happy Rosalie.
And stupid, dreamer, happy Rosalie was the “dreamer” and “happy” part of that because I saw that the night had just made my mom the “happy” part.
There was also, of course, the important addition of Snapper being a crazy-good cuddler.
Like we’d done it a million times before, with skills innate to males and females passed down from generation to generation, even if we were all together, the men talked and the women talked, holding entirely different conversations in the same space.
Mom and I learned Joker wasn’t Travis’s dad. He was Travis’s really awesome stepdad. They lived together, had Travis every other week, Carissa worked at LeLane’s, and they’d gone to high school together, been in love with each other then, but it wasn’t until relatively recently they hooked up.
She gave us more and Carissa learned a lot about Mom and me.
Through this, sipping Corona, I watched her with Joker, the ease they had with each other and with Travis, and I wondered if she knew about the shit storm that was swirling around the Chaos MC.
If she did, it didn’t seem to bother her in the slightest.
She had her man. She had her son. Her man loved her son and her son worshiped her man.
In the bubble of Carissa’s world, all was good and happy even if the bigger bubble of the Chaos world was in danger of exploding.
Along with this I came to realize that I really liked Carissa and Joker. I liked them all. I liked that there was food and booze and fun and loudness and laughter. I liked that no one pushed Snap and Joker and me to join in, they let us be quiet in the corner with the kids. I liked that there were kids and they were part of what was happening in a natural way. I liked that once some folks left, we got something different, mellow and comfortable and relaxed. I liked that Snap fit into all of this like he was born to it. And I liked that Snapper fit me (and Mom) into it like we’d been there for years.
Liking all of this, lulled by all of this, eventually I passed out on Snapper’s chest, still in the throes of nodding to try to stay awake as Mom and Carissa chatted.
The next thing I knew, Snap was lifting me from the couch.
“I can walk,” I’d mumbled.
“That’s good, baby, because you just got over a concussion and I could get you up normal stairs, but it’d be a tight fit not to slam your cranium into the center pole of these.”
He put me down at the foot of the staircase and I glanced groggily around as, with Snap’s hands on my hips spotting me, I lurched up the stairs.
The space was dark and empty.
“Where’s Mom?” I asked.
“Joke and Carrie drove her home.”
“Oh.”
I made it up to the bedroom, through the bedroom and bathroom, managed to snap on the closet light and stood swaying, staring at a set of drawers in the closet.
“Where do you think my pajamas are?” I asked Snapper, who’d followed me.
He opened and closed two drawers.
And there they were in drawer number three.
I snatched up a pair that was shorts and a loose cami in a peach/mauve/lavender/gray paisley and then pulled off my tee.
That was when I sensed Snap leaving me.
I put on my pajamas, saw High had set my suitcases just inside the closet, decided I was too exhausted to dig through them for my toothbrush, and then lurched into the bedroom.
Snap was standing at the end of the bed, arms crossed on his chest, ankles crossed with boot heel up, toe down on the wood floor, watching me.
“Why aren’t you in bed?” I asked.
His body jerked and his brows cocked.
“Bed,” I muttered, making it to the side of that piece of furniture and yanking down the fluffy duvet.
Very fluffy.
Upon sleepy inspection, totally choice.
“Babe,” Snapper called softly.
Bent over the bed, I looked to him, focused on him, saw he had not moved, and stated, “I’m stupid, dreamer, happy Rosalie right now, Snap. Please don’t mess it up.”
“You’re not drunk,” he noted.
“No,” I confirmed.
“Honey—”
“Don’t,” I whispered.
In the dark lit generously from the huge window behind the bed, we stared into each other’s eyes for long moments before he reminded me quietly, “We haven’t had our conversation.”
“You’re messing it up,” I said quietly back.
“I’m not that guy,” he informed me.
“You’re still messing it up,” I shared.
“Help me out here, Rosie, ’cause you mean the world to me and I don’t wanna do dick to fuck my chances of having a shot with you.”
Okay.
God.
Just when I thought he couldn’t get better.
He got better.
“Then don’t leave me tonight. Because tonight has been perfect. Mom was happy. I was happy. We haven’t had a perfect night since Dad got sick. The only thing that could make it not perfect is you leaving me to sleep alone. I’m not talking about anything else. Just sleeping and not doing it alone.”
“All right, baby, you want that, I gotta know, the dawn comes, you aren’t gonna be pissed I took advantage.”
“We’re gonna sleep. There won’t be any advantage to take,” I replied.
“Sleeping together is an intimacy, Rosie, no matter what happens, or doesn’t, when you’re doin’ it,” he informed me softly.
I loved he thought that.
God.
Better and better.
“The dawn will not bring that for you, Everett,” I whispered.
It took him several very long seconds to make his decision.
He made the right one when he pulled off his thermal and let it fall to the floor.
Rather than stare at his chest and perhaps start drooling, I crawled into bed.
I watched as, drawn by moonlight, his beautiful body in gray boxer briefs got in the other side.
He settled on his back.
I scooted toward him and settled into him.
He shoved an arm under me and curled me closer.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Fuck yeah,” he answered decisively.
“Maybe this isn’t fair,” I muttered, having second thoughts.
“Rosie, honey, you put me here, you change your mind now, you’re gonna have to pry me out.”
I smiled against his pec and draped my arm across his abs.
They were tight.
They felt nice.
“How much do you work out?” I asked.
“Enough.”
“Enough for your average shmoe or enough for a semi-pro middleweight boxer?”
“Classed light heavyweight, Rosie.”
I lifted my head and looked to his face in the moonlight.
“You box?”
“No. But I know the divisions and I’m not middleweight.”
“Oh.”
I saw him grin in the silver beams. “How much you work out?”
“Nine hours a shift.”
He chuckled.
“No, seriously,” I told him.
His fingers started drawing a pattern on my hip. “When you go back?”
“They told me to call when I’m ready. I think I’ll call tomorrow.”
“Ribs good enough for that?”
“I’m not supposed to do much to aggravate my torso, so I won’t be carrying a tray for a while, but they said they’d put me behind the bar.”
“They like you,” he murmured.
“I’m likable,” I teased.
His hand gripped my hip. “Yeah, you are.”
I settled again into his pec.
“Those ribs, baby, you should sleep on your back,” he noted.
“I’m here, you’re gonna have to pry me away.”
His body shook gently with his humor but his arm around me got tighter.
It felt sweet.
“These mattresses are super-comfortable,” I remarked.
“Rosie?” he called.
“Yeah,” I answered.
“You were dead to the world and barely able to maneuver the stairs ten minutes ago.”
“Is that biker speak for you’re tired and want me to shut up?” I asked.
“Pretty much,” he told me.
I smiled against his pec.
We both fell silent and it was Snap that broke it.
He did it careful. He did it gentle.
He did it Snap.
“You scared of bein’ alone, honey?” he asked.
Man, it was crazy how well he knew me.
“A little,” I whispered.
He gently rolled me toward him so I was more full-frontal against his side, murmuring, “I got you.”
I closed my eyes tight.
I had not been “got” in a really long time.
I did not want to be one of those women who could not do without a man.
But I feared I was one of those women who couldn’t do without a man.
Or, alternately, I lost the man who had me my whole life, and like Mom said, I’d gone reeling. And at the time when I was ready to attempt to stand on my own two feet, God had thrown into my path the man who was perfect for me.
But I was on a long, ugly roll of losing men that meant something to me. I’d barely survived the most important one.
What would happen if I lost the only one on this earth who was perfect for me?
“It’s all gonna be good, Rosie,” he said.
I really wished I could believe he was right.
“Okay, Snapper.”
“Go to sleep,” he ordered.
“All right, honey.”
He drew in a deep breath and let it go.
I kept my eyes closed (I just didn’t do that tight).
It didn’t take long before I fell asleep.
The pain in my ribs drove me to my back in the middle of the night.
But now, here I was again, tucked to Snapper’s side with his hand resting on my hip.
“Awake?” Snap asked, his deep voice thick with sleep.
“It’s past dawn,” I told him.
“Yeah,” he agreed.
“And right now I’d totally kiss you if I’d grabbed my toothbrush last night and wasn’t terrified of morning breath,” I declared.
I just got out the word “breath” before I found myself hauled full on top of Snapper’s long, lean body and I was looking in Snapper’s downy-snowy-sleepy eyes.
“I don’t give a fuck about morning breath,” he growled.
So be it.
I tilted my head.
And I kissed him.
Now this…
This…
This was the perfect first kiss.
Both our mouths were open before our lips touched and both our tongues were out and tangling before our lips settled.
I didn’t know about me but he tasted wet and warm and musky and I barely had that taste before I wanted more.
So I tilted my head further and gave Snap more in order to get my more.
I knew he wanted it because he didn’t hesitate to take it.
He also gave it, keeping one arm wrapped firm around my waist, the other hand trailed up my back, twining in my hair to hold me to his mouth.
It lasted long and it went deep and every millisecond was a thing of pure beauty before he gently fisted his fingers in my hair, tugged back a bit, and pulled his mouth from mine.
“That was fuckin’ spectacular, Rosie, but I gotta ask you to help me out again,” he rumbled.
I’d help him any way he wanted.
“What?” I breathed.
He shifted me on his body so “what” was without a doubt digging with steely determination into the flesh of my belly.
And “what” felt heavenly.
“Gonna get up and grab a shower, yeah?” he said. “You snooze. I’ll make you breakfast then I gotta go.”
Wait.
He was going to…
What?
“Snapper—”
“I want that,” he all but snarled, his eyes suddenly flooded with heat, which sent a reciprocal wave of the same blazing through me.
Unfortunately (but also amazingly), he kept talking.
“But we’re doin’ this right, Rosie. We’re talkin’ and we’re gettin’ shit straight because we’re not just doin’ this right, I’m doin’ you right. For years, you’ve had a rough ride, what’s happened recently just the most recent. You’ve been jacked around since your daddy died and I don’t think either man meant to do you wrong but in the end they did. And I’m the man who’s gonna do you right, Rosalie. With me, that rough ride is gonna end, baby. So as much as I want more of what you’re offering, I’ll take it tonight when we both know where we’re at and I can be assured you’re right there with me.”
Perfect for me.
I stared into his eyes as I slid my hand up his chest, his neck, into the bristles on his cheek.
Holding him there, holding his gaze, only then did I whisper, “Thank you for being you, Snap.”
He made a noise that sounded in my womb before he rolled, his rock-solid cock now pressed to my hip, his chest looming over me for a scant second before he laid another wet, hot, crazy-awesome one on me and then lifted his head to me panting and holding on to his shoulders.
“Stop bein’ you for five seconds so I can get outta this bed,” he ordered gruffly.
Snapper sounded nice talking gruffly.
But I nearly burst out laughing, contained it and beat back the snort doing that welled up in me before I asked, “Who do you want me to be?”
“Someone annoying.”
“Snapper,” I whined dramatically, “you know I don’t like it when you throw your clothes on the floor.”
“Now you’re bein’ cute and I still wanna fuck you.”
“I have syphilis,” I lied.
He started laughing.
“And I used to be a man,” I went on.
He started laughing harder.
“A gay man, so we’re good,” I told him.
He laughed even harder.
I slid my hands from his shoulders up to cup his jaw and said quietly, “I hate to end this goodness because you laughing is a beautiful thing but I need you to take a shower, have breakfast, and leave me by myself, because except in my car, I haven’t been alone since it happened and I’ve gotta learn to do that again, hopefully without freaking.”
The laughter vanished and he dipped his face close to me.
“I’ll show you how to use the alarm before I go,” he said.
I nodded.
“And whatever I do today, I’ll do it close so if you get too freaked, you call me and I can be here fast.”
“Don’t change your—”
“Rosie, that’s just the way it’s gonna be today and every day until you’re feelin’ good about things.”
Perfect for me.
I nodded again.
“And I’ll be back tonight around six. I’ll bring dinner. What do you want?” he asked.
“What are my choices?”
“Any place that does takeaway in the Denver Metro Area.”
“That’s an alarming amount of choice, Snapper Kavanaugh.”
“It’s what you got, Rosalie Holloway.”
“Narrow it down for me, Mulder,” I ordered and the instant I did, the look in his eyes…
Man.
I’d leap through rings of fire to give him that look again.
He liked we had that. Him my Mulder, me his Scully. He liked getting it back. He liked that familiarity. That history. That sweetness we shared, him and me.
Perfect for me.
“Indian or Mexican,” he said softly.
“Indian.”
“You got a favorite?” he asked.
“Butter chicken,” I told him.
“Noted,” he said.
“Or chicken tikka masala,” I shared.
“Right.”
“Or chicken korma,” I said.
“Rosie—”
“Or shrimp biryani. And onion bhaji, mushroom bhaji, tikka skewers, samosas. Anything with paneer in it. I also like keema. And don’t forget the pilau rice, naan and papadums.”
I shut up.
Snap stared at me.
I continued to be silent.
“You done?” he asked.
“Aloo gobi,” I said quietly.
He busted out laughing.
He gave me a quick kiss on the lips still doing it, and continuing to do it, he pulled away and asked, “What do you want me to make you for breakfast?”
“LaMar’s,” I shared.
He shook his head, still laughing, and also asking, “You got one or two choices to give me or do I gotta get through another recitation?”
“Buttermilk glazed or Bavarian cream.”
“Gotcha,” he said, gave me another quick kiss, then rolled away.
I watched his ass as he got out of bed and I watched a lot of things as he walked around the end of it to the bathroom, all of them awesome.
Then I lay on my new mattresses (that Snapper gave me) and looked to the ceiling of my bedroom in my new house (that Snapper gave me).
And I thought, What the hell am I doing?
I knew.
But I didn’t know.
I knew it was right.
And I was terrified it was wrong.
I wanted to grab hold to all that had been given to me (and my mom) from the instant we walked into this carriage house.
And I felt fear tearing into me that if I did, I’d finally have it all again.
Which meant having everything to lose…
Again.