Waking up in Jace’s arms was like a dream come true. She had slept well. So well. When she’d woken through the night, he was there, strong arms around her, keeping her close and safe. She felt so protected and so safe with him there. A warmness filled her heart that she hadn’t felt in years. It settled in, making her want him on the deepest level.

 

He was good in bed, sure. Excellent even. But she wanted so much more than that. She wanted his thoughtfulness and caring, the way he seemed to want to do anything for her. The way he seemed to care about her, maybe even deeply liked her. It was far more affection than Craig had ever given her.

 

But then, Jace was so different from Craig. When Jace got mad, he tightened his fists and clenched his jaw, but he didn’t hit anything. He didn’t threaten her. Instead, he dropped everything to come protect her when someone else had threatened her. Craig would never do that. He might’ve helped the guy take her out for all she knew.

 

Jace liked the things she did. He never complained about things like her cooking, or her messy hair at the end of the day, or the way the house looked. Even if it was a total disaster most of the time. Craig did nothing but yell at her and tell her what she did wrong. Jace complimented her and made her feel special.

 

Every thought of Jace brought a fresh warmth to her chest. Yes, she thought. This is it. This is falling in love. She was falling in love with him. And it felt really, really good. She only hoped Sara would like him just as much.

 

Oh, but Sara. She’d played with him and even when he was still recovering from horrible injuries he played with her, he listened to her. He’d spent more time with her already, given her more undivided attention than Craig probably ever had. She already seemed to like him. Already was asking when he could come play again. And the way Jace wanted to protect her, too.

 

No, she didn’t have to worry about that at all. Jace would be the type of guy to provide for them and love them, to protect them and cherish them. How she loved that word and loved it even more when he used it to about her. She wanted to be cherished. What would that even feel like? It would feel like this, she thought, pressing her body against his warmth. It would feel good and safe and peaceful.

 

Even if he was a little bit bad boy, it didn’t show. Not like it had for Craig. Craig was on all the time, always tough. But Jace had this softer side that he gave her. Maybe he was tough around his friends, and at whatever his job was, but when he was here, he left the tough guy behind.

 

She could deal with a small amount of criminal activity. It sounded like he just sold drugs. Illegal, yes. But violent, no. He wasn’t breaking into stores and robbing them. He wasn’t mugging people on the street. He wasn’t getting into fights for money. He wasn’t selling stolen guns. These were all the things that Craig and his motorcycle club had done. These were the things all motorcycle clubs did. But Jace proved you could ride a bike and not be part of a dangerous club. You could do illegal things without making them so violent. And, apparently, you could be a bad boy and be tough, but still be the protector and sweet as could be on the inside.

 

Jace was nothing like Craig. And that made her want to love him even more.

 

She opened her eyes to look up at him. He looked back down at her.

 

“Did you sleep well?’ he asked.

 

“I haven’t slept that well in years.” She stretched out, pressing her still naked body against his.

 

“Keep that up and you won’t have time for breakfast. I’ll have to have you again.”

 

“I might be okay with that.” But then a door squeaked. Isabella recognized the sound. “It’s Sara.”

 

He hugged her tight and she kissed him. She sat up and found her clothes, then quickly dressed and left the room, closing the door behind her.

 

Sara stood in her room doorway, rubbing her eyes, her doll with the pink dress hanging from her hand.

 

“Morning, sleepy head,” Isabella said.

 

“Can we have waffles?”

 

“Sure. Want to come help me?”

 

Sara followed Isabella into the kitchen, where they began the waffles. Isabella took out the waffle iron and the ingredients to make the mix. Sara got out the measuring cup from the drawer and set it on the counter.

 

“Hey, Sara, do you remember my friend, Jace?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Well, guess what?”

 

“What?”

 

“He’s here. He came over last night to help me and it got really late, so he just decided to spend the night. Kinda like a slumber party.” Maybe he hadn’t been too far off to suggest that.

 

“Why didn’t you invite me?” Her little lip quivered. “I want to have a slumber party, too.”

 

“We can have one tonight. We can invite all your dolls and animals and have a big huge slumber party in my bed. How does that sound?”

 

“Okay. Can Jace come, too?”

 

“Come to what?” Jace appeared in the doorway, fully dressed, watching. “What are you making?”

 

“Waffles,” Isabella said.

 

“From scratch?”

 

“Yes.” She chuckled and brushed the flour form the counter. “Do you think I would dare feed my child frozen waffles?” She said it as a joke, but he didn’t smile.

 

“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with frozen waffles. If you need to make her frozen waffles, then that’s what you do.”

 

She stared at him for a moment, his gaze so strong and intent, it bore through her.

 

“Okay,” she said, not sure what else to say.

 

“You have no one to impress. No one else’s standards to live up to. Do what works for you and you only.”

 

She nodded. Though she’d slept well, she was still tired from being up late and dealing with all she went through. Tears crept into her eyes. She blinked them away and focused on what she was doing. She stirred the mix, adding in the eggs and oil.

 

“Sara, can you set the table?” Isabella asked.

 

Sara took Jace’s hand and dragged him to the cabinet where the dishes were. “I can’t reach,” she said, and pointed.

 

He opened the cabinet and took out three plates. “What else do we need?”

 

Sara went to the silverware drawer and took out forks and knives and spoons—all of them.

 

“Whoa,” he said. “We only need three of each, right?”

 

“But what about my animals?”

 

He looked to Isabella. She smiled and said, “They can eat later. Today, it’s just us, okay?”

 

“Okay.” Sara dumped all the silverware back in the drawer.

 

Jace restored them into the proper slots and handed Sara three knives, three forks, and three spoons.

 

She took them to the table and tried to set them out. But one place had two spoons and no fork. Another had three forks. Isabella saw Jace hold back a smile as he fixed the silverware.

 

Sara sat down, waiting.

 

“Do we need glasses?” Jace asked.

 

Sara pointed from her place at the table. Jace took out three glasses and set them down.

 

“What do you want to drink?” he asked.

 

Sara looked shocked and her face almost made Isabella laugh out loud.

 

“Milk,” Sara said with a duh-are-you-kidding-me face.

 

Jace took out the milk and poured three glasses. “Coffee?” he asked Isabella.

 

She nodded with her head. “It’s above in the cabinet.”

 

He made the coffee while she poured the batter into the iron, making waffle after waffle. She took out the whipped cream and strawberries and chocolate. In the center of each, she piled the strawberries, drizzled chocolate over, then added a dab of whipped cream. She put one in front of each of them, then made one for herself.

 

“Your mommy is a master chef,” Jace said. “You’re super lucky.”

 

“Oh, I know,” Sara said fervently. “She’s the bestest.”

 

Finally, Isabella joined them at the table with her own waffle. “I still have some batter if you want more,” she said.

 

“I think I could eat ten of these,” Jace said. “They’re so good.”

 

“And the strawberries make them healthy,” Sara added.

 

“And the chocolate makes them yummy,” Isabella said, sticking a forkful into her mouth. They were a little dry, she thought. But Jace didn’t seem to notice. Maybe his had been better.

 

“Are you going to school today?” Jace asked.

 

“I don’t go to school. Not until a few months.”

 

“Ah.”

 

“She starts kindergarten in the fall,” Isabella said.

 

“Do you work in a store like my mommy does?” Sara asked.

 

Jace shook his head. “My job is a little different. Do you know what a motorcycle is?”

 

Sara nodded. “My daddy had one. They’re loud.”

 

“They are,” he agreed. “Well, I have a lot of friends and we all have motorcycles and we like to ride them. I’m their leader. We do lots of different things to make money.”

 

“Like what?” Sara asked.

 

Isabella almost dropped her fork. “Yeah, like what?” she said sharply. Would he just outright lie?

 

“Well, we sell things mostly. People sell us stuff like TVs and computers for cheap and we sell them to other people. Kinda like how a store does it.”

 

Isabella huffed and narrowed her eyes at him. “So, you’re the leader of a motorcycle club?”

 

“Yeah. The Crimson Hawks.”

 

“I didn’t know that.”

 

“You knew I had a bike.”

 

“But I didn’t know you had an MC.”

 

“Can I be in the club?” Sara asked.

 

“If you have a motorcycle, sure,” Jace said. He raised an eyebrow at Isabella, but she turned away.

 

Now she was fighting back different tears. The hurt and betrayal she felt gripped her heart. He was an MC leader. He didn’t just dabble with drugs. He didn’t just get into occasional fights. All MCs were the same. They lied, cheated, stole, did whatever they had to for money. She’d never outright asked him, and she had just made assumptions, but still. She felt deceived by him. Whatever she had thought about him was wrong. He was just like Craig. He was violent and a criminal and dangerous.

 

Maybe he wasn’t worth all the trouble she was in now with this guy following her. Maybe she should just take Sara and get away from him. Away from here. The anger bubbled up in her. She’d just made a home for them. They were just settling in. She had a decent job. Sara was going to school soon. She had friends. And now she’d have to leave for another biker bad boy who was just like Craig.

 

How could she be so stupid? How could she fall for him and believe his lies? Because she was stupid. She’d believed Craig’s lies, hadn’t she? Fallen into his trap. And how many times did she forgive him and believe him when he said he’d never hurt her again? Jace was just the same. He’d wait until he had her, then he’d flip and turn on her. He’d get mean and he’d hit her, too. And now she’d slept with him. Her stomach turned and she couldn’t eat anymore. She got up to put her food away and cleaned up, thoroughly disgusted with herself.

 

###

 

The change in Isabella was sudden and obvious and left him reeling. Was it because he was an MC leader? He couldn’t think of anything else that he’d done that would cause her to turn on him like that. He’d been good to the kid, even helped out. They’d had a fabulous night, and now this.

 

He felt the anger building. What else did he have to do for this woman? Or would he just never be good enough for her? What, so he didn’t have a traditional job. Who cared? He made plenty of money doing what he did and he was well respected. How was that not attractive to her? Wasn’t she used to biker guys anyway? She’d been married to one, so how could she be flipping out now? He’d never hurt her. He’d dropped everything to protect her. He was sitting here with her kid eating breakfast.

 

He shoved another forkful of waffle into his mouth and tried to make eye contact with Isabella. He was pissed about the waffles, too. Stupid thing was so damn good he wanted to moan in pleasure right there, but that would be inappropriate. Still. She was such a good cook. And last night in bed…man. He would do anything for her. She was perfect and kept getting more and more perfect. The anger built more when he thought of her ex. How could dudes be so stupid? He’d always wanted someone like her and here she was. But now he’d done something to upset her. And he just had to figure out exactly what and how to undo it.

 

“Hey, Sara, want to help me clean up?” he asked.

 

Sara slid down from her chair, holding her plate proudly in her hands. He took it from her and put it in the sink. Then he put in his own plate. Isabella was cleaning the waffle maker, so he put anything else that looked dirty into the sink and filled it with hot water, adding in soap to make it bubbly.

 

“You don’t have to do that,” Isabella said.

 

“I want to.” He smiled at her, but she turned away again and resumed wiping all the batter from the little crevices in the waffle maker.

 

“Sara, why don’t you go and pick out an outfit?” Isabella said.

 

“Okay.” Sara skipped off to her room.

 

Now was his chance. He put down the plate he was washing and went to her. He stood behind her and slid his arms around her and bent down to kiss her neck. She smelled like strawberries and sugar and he wanted to lick her head to toe.

 

She jerked her neck away and broke free of his grasp.

 

“Okay.” He let his hands hit his thighs with an audible slap. “What did I do?”

 

She walked over to the sink and put the rubber scraper into the soapy water, then picked up where he had left off with the dishes. He went back to the other side of the sink to finish. He didn’t want to leave the job half done. She needed to see that he could and would clean. He would never leave it all to her. He wouldn’t criticize her either. He’d praise her for everything she did, no matter how small.

 

“I got these, it’s okay. Thanks,” she said.

 

“Isabella.”

 

She didn’t look up. She scrubbed a plate and rinsed it off, then placed it in the dish rack.

 

“Isabella,” he said again, stronger this time.

 

“Yeah?” She still didn’t look at him.

 

“What gives?”

 

“What do you mean? I just have to get these dishes done so I can get ready and get Sara to the babysitter’s house.”

 

“Why are you acting like this?”

 

She put another plate in the rack and refused to look at him. “I’m sorry. This is the life of a single mother. I have a lot to do.”

 

“That’s not what I mean.” He rinsed the plate he’d been cleaning and walked behind her to add it to the dish rack. He scrubbed faster so he’d get more done. “Why are you suddenly being so cold?”

 

“I told you. I just have a lot to do, okay?”

 

She set down another plate and left the room. He heard her talking to Sara a minute later.

 

He washed the remaining dishes as fast as he could, then wiped down the counter. He looked around and made sure everything looked neat and clean. He double checked to make sure he had everything he’d brought with him. Phone, wallet. Check. His helmet was by the front door, and he stood by it to wait for her.

 

She came out of Sara’s room and went directly into hers, shutting the door behind her. He tapped his foot, trying to get the anger to fade. But when she came out and went into the bathroom, then started the shower, and she’d still refused to look at him or talk to him, he found it difficult to contain his irritation.

 

Jace considered storming in there to talk to her. But he knew better. If he went in there and she was all naked and soapy, it would be all over. He’d have to have her right there, and there was little chance she’d be up for that if she couldn’t even look at him. Just the thought of her in there—picturing her body, remembering the feel of her—got Little Jazz all worked up. He had to make an adjustment to keep him in place.

 

Well, she wasn’t getting out this door without talking to him. Simple as that. Not that he’d force her physically, but this was ridiculous. You didn’t sleep with someone and have half a great morning, then stop talking in an instant and not say why.

 

The water in the shower shut off. Several minutes later, she came out wrapped in a towel, hair dripping down her back. She glanced over and jumped at the sight of him.

 

“You’re still here?” she asked.

 

He nodded once. “We need to talk.”

 

“I have to get ready.”

 

She went into her bedroom and closed the door again behind her. Okay, enough was enough. He walked over and tried the knob. At least she hadn’t locked it. He opened the door slowly and stuck his head in.

 

“I’ll be out in a minute,” she said.

 

He stepped into the room and closed the door. “I figured it’d be better to talk while Sara is in the other room, not listening.”

 

She already had pants on and was fastening her bra. Her damp hair was now wrapped in a towel on top of her head. He wanted to grab that towel and her and bend her over right there at her dresser.

 

She walked away and opened her closet door, then stuck her head in, looking for something.

 

“You need to tell me why you’re ignoring me all of the sudden,” he said.

 

“I think you should just go,” she said.

 

“Fine. After you tell me what the hell is going on. Isabella. You called me sobbing. I came immediately over to make sure you were safe and stayed to protect you through the night. We had some damn amazing sex, cuddled all morning, and even had a great half of breakfast. Then you flipped the switch. What gives?”

 

Isabella pulled a shirt over her head and finally turned to look at him. She shook her head and turned back to her dresser to find jewelry. “You’re an MC leader.”

 

“And?”

 

“And that’s all I need to know about you.”

 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He crossed his arms in automatic defense. The anger was still right there, ready to burst free. He was good at controlling it. He’d need to hit the gym later, though. Had to punch the bag and lift weights to get the rage out.

 

“Jace, I was married to an MC leader for years, and I know what that life is all about. I’m not interested in getting back into that.”

 

“And what exactly is it all about, then, Isabella? If you know so much.”

 

She turned to him full on and glared. “I thought you sold drugs here and there. I was willing to make an exception for you, even though I’m done dating criminals. I figured it wasn’t a violent crime, so it wasn’t that big of a deal. But an MC? I’m sure you sell all sorts of stuff. I can’t believe you told Sara you’re like a store. Yeah, you steal stuff off the store’s trucks.

 

“Who knows what else you do. Guns? Extortion? Hookers? MCs do all that fun stuff. And the way you got yourself beat up the other day? Just another day in the life of an MC leader. Always fighting. Always.

 

“Do you know Craig had a personal nurse? He never wanted to go to the hospital and one of his girls had left to get a real job. So he kept her on the books as his personal nurse whenever he or one of his guys got hurt in another fight. Kept her pretty darn busy.

 

“I should have asked you straight out, and I’m sorry I didn’t. I thought you just had a bike and that was it. Not everyone who has a bike is in an MC. Or leads one. But there is no way I’m going back to that awful lifestyle and exposing my daughter to it. No way. Look what good it’s done me already. I’d rather you just go so I can be done with you and stop having creepy men, who, oh wait—they must be in a rival MC, right?” She laughed humorlessly. “God. How pathetic. Well, I don’t need them after me because of you. If they ask, I’m giving them whatever information I have so that I can keep myself and my daughter safe.”

 

His jaw ached with the pressure of his teeth grinding together. He waited to speak. If he opened his mouth right now, he might jump across the room and chew her to bits. So he ground his jaw harder and glared at her.

 

“I never would have called you if I knew,” she continued. “I wouldn’t have even picked you up that night I found you on the road. I would have just called an ambulance or something. And you can be sure that what happened last night would never, ever have happened if I had known the truth about you. I feel sick to my stomach that you were around my daughter.”

 

He took three long breaths in and released each slowly. He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them. He could see the fear in her eyes. She was likely used to being beat badly for speaking anything close to words like that to her ex. Maybe she was thinking of that right now. Thinking of all the times she’d dared to stand up to Craig and all the ways she’d paid for it. She probably thought if he was so much like Craig, he’d come over there and give her a black eye. But hitting her was the last thing he wanted to do.

 

“Believe me,” he said through gritted teeth, “if I had known what a judgmental prude you are, I wouldn’t have touched you either.” He spat the words from his mouth like venom.

 

She swallowed hard and took a step back.

 

“Don’t do that,” he said. “Don’t step back, looking like you’re afraid of me. I know you think I’m just like that asshole, Craig, but I’m not. I’ve never hit a woman and I never would. But to you, we’re all the same, aren’t we? We’re just a bunch of low life bikers hanging out all day throwing fists and robbing stores. Probably think we steal children and put them on the streets, too. Hell, I hear there’s great money in that. Why not?” He shook his head. “You disgust me. How could you judge me like that? After the days we spent together? After last night? You don’t think you saw the real me in all that time? You’re going to stand there and think you’re so much better than me? You’re some perfect little mommy who has it all together and can’t do anything wrong? And I’m a no-good street rat who will bring Little Miss Perfect down. Well, I am so sorry that I tainted your perfect little life and your innocent little bed.”

 

She glared and wiped tears from her eyes. “Get. Out.” 

 

He could hear her breath hitching in her chest. She was ready to lose it. He wondered if she got destructive when she was angry. With an ex like hers, probably not. Unless she was the type to act out in the same way she was acted out upon. Some people did things like that. They got beat at home by their dads, then turned around and beat up kids at school or guys at the bar or their wives at home.

 

She didn’t seem like the violent type though. She was probably only a crier. She’d sit and sob for hours. Well, let her. Yeah, he’d thought she was perfect. And apparently that was the problem. So did she. All the years of abuse had made her righteous toward others. Oh, her husband was so awful, she must be amazing by comparison. No freaking thank you.

 

How could he have fallen for this crap? Started to have serious feelings for someone who could act like this? Who would judge him like that?

 

“You don’t know shit,” he hissed at her. “About me or my club.” He spun on his heel and left the room.

 

In the living room, he snatched his helmet from the ground and made a point of closing the door extra quietly behind him, just to prove he could. See how she judged that.