Silver Bastard

He was eating pie.

I discovered this when I walked into the kitchen, cigar box in my hand.

“Hey, Becca,” he said, nodding at me. Regina sat next to him drinking coffee like they’d been best friends for years. “Sorry to crash your dinner, but I had no idea what time you’d be back and I was in the area.”

I opened my mouth to call bullshit on him, then realized it might actually be true. Boonie and Darcy lived a couple miles down the mountain from here.

“He didn’t just barge in,” Regina chimed in. “He drove by and saw your car, and I found him tucking a note under the windshield wiper. Of course I invited him in.”

Puck smiled at me, then finished off his pie and stood up. “You ready to leave?”

“Yes,” Earl said. “I’m ready for bed. Remember what I told you, Becca. I may be an old man, but I mean what I say.”

Puck cocked a brow at me and I shrugged, because no way was I going to tell him that Earl had sort of offered to dispose of his body if he got on my bad side. Instead I gathered my things, and then Regina was handing me a plate full of leftovers, along with stern instructions to come again as soon as I could.

“So Earl didn’t break out the shotgun. That’s a good sign,” Puck said as we walked out. Oh, Puck, if you only knew . . . “I’ll follow you back to town on the bike. We’ll sleep at your place again.”

“You seem awful sure of yourself.”

“Yup,” he replied, and I had to laugh.

It’d been a crazy, fucked-up emotional roller coaster of a week, I thought as I pulled out of the driveway, but at least I still had Regina and Earl. The motorcycle roared to life behind me, and I glanced back to see Puck’s headlight in my mirror.

So now I had Regina and Earl and Puck. Well, I had Puck so long as I didn’t have to shoot him. If I did, I had no doubt that Earl would come through for me.

He always had.

—

Puck’s hand slid between my legs, pushing them apart. I didn’t know what time it was—felt like five in the morning. Cracking an eye I looked at the clock. Eight a.m. Impossible, it couldn’t be later than six . . . I moaned because I was tired and wanted to sleep longer. Then a mouth covered my clit and I started moaning for a better reason. An hour later I rolled off Puck and flopped down next to him, pleasantly awake and alert for the day.

“You’re a pretty good alarm clock.”

“I like to make myself useful,” he said. “What time do you need to be at school?”

“Not until eleven today.” I glanced over at the clock. Nine in the morning—I still had an hour to get ready before I had to leave. Time for breakfast and a shower, and I should probably pack a dinner, too. My shift didn’t start until seven, but Teresa had left a message asking if I could come in early. I could definitely use the money. Between my shopping trip to Walmart and paying the electric, I was down to fourteen dollars. Just enough to get me through, so long as I caught rides with Blake and didn’t eat too much. I started to sit up, but Puck caught my arm and pulled me back down.

“Just a minute,” he said. “Wanted to talk to you about something.”

“What’s that?”

“You work tomorrow night?”

“It’s Wednesday, so yeah,” I replied, curious. “Why?”

“We’re having a thing at the clubhouse,” he said. I wrapped my arm around him, snuggling down into his side. I had a feeling I knew what direction this was headed. I didn’t like it.

“I have to work,” I said again, firmly.

“If I talked to Teresa and got you the night off, would that be all right? She owes me a favor or two. Wouldn’t be a regular thing, but we’ve got guests coming in from out of town. I’d like them to see you.”

His words struck me as odd.

“I’d like them to see you.” Not “I’d like them to meet you.” Puck wanted them to look at me, like I was a thing to be owned and used . . . That brought up memories, and they weren’t all pleasant ones.

“I don’t like biker parties,” I said. “I should probably just work—I haven’t been there long enough to be asking for favors. I can’t really afford it anyway.”

He fell silent, tracing a small circle on my shoulder.

“You are aware I’m in a motorcycle club, right?” he finally asked, a touch of humor in his voice. “Biker parties are a big part of my life, and they’ll be a big part of yours, too, if you’re my old lady.”

I pushed up and glared at him.

“I am not your old lady. We’re sort of hooking up in an undefined way. That’s it.”

“Hooking up exclusively,” he pointed out. “You’re on the back of my bike and you’re under my protection. That’s pretty damned close to old lady territory.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head hard. “I’m serious, Puck. I don’t want to go there. We can date, have sex, whatever. I’ll never be anyone’s old lady. Been there, done that.”

His eyes snapped up from my boobs. “The fuck? Did you just say you’d been someone’s old lady?”

I sighed, flopping down next to him. “Sorry, I was talking about my mom. I’ve seen what it is to be an old lady, not just with her but with other women. It’s all fun and games until someone smacks you across the face for not fetching a beer fast enough. Pass.”