Weasel and some of the other guys had been away for a couple of days on a run. They’d made a gun and ammunition purchase, dropped off the extra to a fellow charter, and now he was heading back to his place.

The road in front of him passed by in a blur, the sun beat down, and the wind whipped by his face. This was freedom; the open road the way to live. Weasel wouldn’t have wanted to live any other way, and being tied down to a “normal” job, not being able to live the life he wanted, would be hell on earth.

The entire time he’d been away from Renee she was all he thought about. It was crazy to think that in the short time since she’d been back in town, he’d fallen even harder for her. He hadn’t thought that was possible.

Even though he hadn’t needed to tell Renee that he was going, or call her when he’d been on the road, he still would have done just that. Truth was for his own peace of mind he wanted to make sure she was okay.

If he was also completely honest, he could admit that he would’ve let her stay at his house without any strings attached. She didn’t need to clean or cook for him. He wanted to help her out because he loved her. But he knew she was too proud to take an offer like that, so putting some stipulations on her moving in was the only way she would’ve agreed.

But he stayed away—if only for these few days—hoping to curb his desire for Renee, maybe thinking she needed the time from him as well. He didn’t want to smother her, didn’t want to be an asshole who had no self-control when it concerned the woman he wanted.

He didn’t want to see himself falling harder for her when she stayed back.

Weasel turned onto his street, his motorcycle noisy as he headed toward his house. He pulled his bike into the driveway, cut the engine, and climbed off. Once standing he stretched, working out the kinks from the couple hours of riding. His back was killing him. He stared at the house for long seconds, wondering if Renee was inside.

She didn’t have a car yet, but you knew who she was saving up for one and to get a place of her own. That very thought that she wouldn’t be in this house, wouldn’t be close to him anymore ate at him.

But Weasel knew that unless he grew some balls and actually told her how he felt he had no right to feel anything.

He grabbed the saddlebags off the bike and headed toward the front door. As soon as he opened it, the scent of lemons and flowers slammed into him. It was girly as fuck, but he couldn’t deny that it smelled nice. It reminded him of Renee, of her femininity and the slight innocence that she tried to keep hidden.

He finally realized the state of his house. He slowly shut the door behind him, looking from the living room into the kitchen and back again. The house was clean as fuck. There were no clothes on the floor, no beer cans scattered around the coffee table. The wood mantel on his fireplace was even polished.

He set the saddlebags down on the ground and headed into the kitchen. Hell, in here it smelled like steak, like red-fucking-meat. His mouth watered, and damn if he almost didn’t get an erection at the incredible smell. He walked over to the pan on the stove, lifted the lid, and saw vegetables frying. Opening the oven, he saw steaks and baked potatoes.

And on the counter cooling was a fucking apple pie. Weasel gripped onto the edge of the counter, this wave washing through him. He heard Renee laughing behind him and he turned around.

She stood there with folded dishtowels in her hand, the smile on her face wide.

“You okay?” she asked with a teasing twinkle in her eyes.

Weasel couldn’t even find his voice to answer.

A clean house.

Dinner cooking.

A damn apple pie cooling on the counter.

And Renee the center of it all.

This was fucking heaven.

“I think I’ve fucking died and gone to heaven.” She started laughing harder and walked in, put the dishtowels away, and turned to stare at him.

She looked so fucking good in that moment, with even a bit of flour on her cheek. Without thinking he reached out and smoothed him thumb along her skin, rubbing the flour away.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he said, dropping his hand to his side and looking back at the pie. “I haven’t had a home-cooked meal in…” He thought about it. “Hell, aside from the BBQs at the club, no one has ever cooked for me like this.”

“Well, seeing as this is part of the job.” She grinned and he could see that she was teasing. “I figured I might as well make your first meal living with me a good one.”

He was the one to chuckle now.

“Take a seat and I’ll serve you.”

Weasel walked over to the table and sat down. He watched as Renee put the dishtowels away and then grabbed a plate and started filling it up with food for him. His stomach gave a loud grumble at that moment and he heard her chuckle. It was nice having her around, her presence this balm in his soul.

He knew one thing for sure. He couldn’t let her go, not without admitting how he felt first.