THREE

LAINEY

FIVE YEARS EARLIER

“I’m heading out now. Everything's tidied away. Can you watch Lachie for me?” I yell at my pseudo stepmother, Wendy, as I dry my hands. I say pseudo simply because she’s been like a mother to me since my own mother died when I was ten, but she’s never been able to get my father to marry her. My mother, Alanah, was my father’s one true love. He’s happy to have a relationship of sorts with Wendy, but he isn't able to give her all of his heart because my mother took a fair chunk of it with her when she passed away. As I grow older, I’m stuck between sympathy for Wendy and pride at the depth of my parent’s love.

“Of course, I can, Madelaine.” Wendy scoffs at my question. “Go and have fun with the rest of the kids.” Whatever else she was going to say is halted when she squeals in laughter, her delicate features lighting up as my dad walks past and slaps her ass. I roll my eyes at his antics.

Waving at Dad, I walk outside before he offers to escort me wherever I'm going. My small group of girlfriends hang near the kitchen of the hall where the local community has gathered to ring in the upcoming new year, waiting for me to finish tidying up.

I don’t need Dad’s overprotectiveness embarrassing me once again.

I live in a country town in Central Queensland, and tonight, the entire district is ringing in the New Year at the town hall for the annual New Year’s Eve party. My family moved here six and a half years ago, after my mother died of cancer. We needed a fresh start after failing miserably in our efforts to function as a family without my mom. We’d spent half a year in a family home that had her stamped all over, trying and failing to move past the tragedy. Our move from Brisbane to a new house and a much-smaller town had helped us heal as much as we could.

“I’ll meet you out front for the fireworks. I need to freshen up,” I tell my friends over my shoulder as I make a hasty exit. Dad’s looking my way again, a frown furrowing his brow as I walk off by myself.

I'm heading for the public restrooms when my twin brother Benji surprises me by throwing his arm over my shoulder.

“Why’re you wandering around in the bloody dark by yourself?” he questions. “You should be with one of us. It's not right for you to be out here alone.”

“For crying out loud, I'm going to the freaking bathroom.” I exclaim. Honestly, my brothers are becoming as bad as Dad. “I’m quite capable of doing that all by myself.”

Pushing his arm from my shoulders, I quicken my pace so I can put some space between us before I lose my temper. Benji breaks into a jog to catch up with me, then he digs his fingers into my ribs from behind. I squirm out of his hold, all the while trying not to laugh because I'm ridiculously ticklish. My brother seizes the opportunity to attack again, and this time it’s too much. I break into shrieks of laughter when his fingers find the sweet-spot that is guaranteed to send me into hysterics. Once he’s had his fill of torturing me, Benji turns me to face him. He’s equally red-faced with laughter.

“All right, I'm sorry. I'll leave you alone. You know I'm right, though.” He winks at me, seeking a truce. Rolling my eyes in response to his bossiness gives me a small bit of satisfaction, diluting my irritation with him to a manageable level.

“What do you want, Benji?”

“I wanted to see if you're coming to Kyle’s tonight. It's gonna be wicked.”

“I'll think about it.”

Placated that I might make an appearance at his best friend's party, Benji jogs off backward.

“Make sure you do, Maddi. It'll be good for you to get your nerdy nose out of a book for once.”

After he turns away from me, I poke my tongue at his back. He's right. I should hang out with everyone for once. School’s out, and I need a break from studying. I just need to wrangle permission from Dad first.

Our father is known as Beast, and is a senior member of a well-known motorcycle club. As his only daughter, I’m a protected species and off limits to most males. Most men will only look at me anyhow, because they know my father, brothers, and any other man belonging to the MC will kick their ass if they mess with me.

As well as my dad, I have four brothers. My twin Benjamin, who turned seventeen two weeks ago with me; a nearly sixteen-year-old brother Joel, who’s becoming as overprotective of me as Dad and Benji; my nerdy twelve-year-old brother Matthew; and little ten-year-old Lachlan, who I swear thinks I’m his mom. We all look out for each other, probably taking it to the extreme sometimes.

Dad’s over protectiveness toward me also stems from the fact that I’m nearly a carbon copy of my blonde-hair, blue-eyed mother. I’m taller than every woman I know, with curves to match my height. I’m not a fan of my height. One of my more superficial wishes is that I’ll miraculously wake up, one day, petite and dainty like Wendy.

When Benji wants to be an asshole—which is most of the time lately—he calls me Malibu Barbie. His teasing results in me beating on him, but he doesn't stop. Reaching puberty early, plus my height and curves, caused me a few problems since men assumed I was older than I was. They’d proposition me without realising my actual age—hence the overprotective father and brothers who feel the need to save me from everyone.

Nowadays, their overzealousness is more annoying than helpful since I’m more than capable of taking care of myself. I was taught, years ago, how to defend myself by my father’s godson, and now fellow MC member. Mik is twenty-five to my seventeen, my best friend, and sometimes, another overprotective brother to contend with. He’s a fellow MC brat; raised in the club like my brothers and I were.

Our parents were best friends. Both of our dads are second generation bikers. Mik’s mum died just before mine, and we bonded over that; along with our mutual love of all things Harley. Our relationship seems weird to outsiders—people constantly comment on it—but I’m mature for my age. The simple fact is that we just get each other. Although, I'm pretty pissed at him for not coming to celebrate with us tonight, and I texted him earlier to let him know just that.

Lost in my thoughts, and eager to get back to my girlfriends, I don’t notice the person crossing the path in front of me until I literally walk into them. Our collision knocks them over. As they fall, they grab my arm to steady themselves, but end up pulling me to the ground with them. My breath rushes from my lungs as I land on top of them. Whomever I knocked over is nearly as hard as the concrete path they’d hit. I'm momentarily winded, forced to rest my head on their chest as I struggle to regain my breath.

“Please excuse me, I am so sorry.” A deep, velvety smooth voice breaks the silence. “I didn’t see you coming.”

Looking up from the chest I’m resting on, I’m greeted by the dark brown eyes of Brendan Taylor, our district’s most eligible bachelor and renowned manwhore. Wonderful, I think to myself with sarcasm. Mentally rolling my eyes, I chastise myself for knocking over the only man in this area whom I find remotely attractive.

Bracing my hands on either side of him so I can get to my feet, I stop when he puts his hands around my waist and holds me to him. My shirt has ridden up so his hands touch bare skin. My skin sparks and catches fire. I feel him draw in a quick breath underneath me, as if touching me affects him as well.

“Are you okay?” he inquires, concern evident in his gorgeous eyes. “We hit pretty hard.”

I wriggle in his grasp, letting him know that I want him to let go of me. Once he releases me, I roll off him and onto my knees, breathing in and out a few times before I stand and answer him. “I’m fine, are you all right?”

Reaching down, I offer my assistance to help him off the ground. He holds my hand in a soft grasp but doesn’t use my offered support to pull himself up. Once he’s standing, I’m forced to take a step back. He’s at least five inches taller than me, and standing so closely that I can’t look him in the face without dislocating my neck. His close proximity causes his cologne to envelop my senses.

It’s one of the most delicious scents I have ever smelled.

“I’m fine as well.” He laughs, still clasping my hand. I tug my hand away twice, but he doesn't let go, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles instead. “Or I will be, if you’d be kind enough to get this crap off my back for me.”

He finally let’s go of my hand when he turns around and presents me with his back. Leaves and small sticks are stuck to the back of his blue dress shirt. Standing on my tiptoes, I brush the debris off of him, starting with his wide shoulders and working my way down to his trim waist. I work as quickly as I can because touching him is making my stomach do funny things—backflips and strange fluttering.

“All done.”

I was aiming for a calm, matter-of-fact tone, so the breathy and higher-than-usual voice that leaves me as I speak two simple words comes as a surprise. Further sabotaging my attempt at cool are my wobbly legs. I don't know if I feel like this because of our fall or if it's Brendan’s proximity. My money is on the latter, even as I try to deny it to myself.

Brendan turns back around, grinning with thanks. Smiling at him, I give him a jerky nod goodbye, and turn to walk away. I need to leave before I make a fool of myself. This wobbly, ditzy person is not me and, frankly, it's embarrassing.

I’m stunned when he grabs my upper arm with firm fingers to prevent me from leaving.

“You’re Madelaine O’Brien, aren’t you?” he asks, his eyes staring straight into mine.

His penetrating gaze feels like he’s trying to delve into the inner recesses of my mind. I don’t examine why, but it makes me uncomfortable, so I shrug my arm from his tighter-than-necessary grip. Letting go with obvious reluctance, he shoots me a quizzical glance.

After I nod my head that he has my name right, he continues. “You’re Benji’s sister?”

“That's me. I prefer to be called Maddi, though,” I tell him, straight-away.

I hate being called Madelaine. The only time I hear my full name is when I’m in trouble—Wendy being the only exception since she refuses to shorten anyone's name.

“I’m actually his twin, even though no one can tell.” I laugh.

It's true. My twin is as dark as I am fair. We look almost nothing alike.

It doesn't surprise me that Brendan knows me as Benji’s sister. Benji’s a talented Australian Football League player, apparently destined to follow in our father’s footsteps. Dad played at State level, never quite making it to the big time, and he's pretty tough on Benji because of it. He believes that Benji will surpass him and play at the national level if he knuckles down and quits partying. My twin’s something of a local legend—where all the girls want him and all the boys want to be his friend.

By comparison, I'm the studious sprinter who keeps to her family and her small group of friends. No one outside of my family wants anything from me, and that's the way I like it.

“I’m Brendan Taylor. I’ve seen you around, but you don’t come to parties like Benji does, so I’ve never officially met you. Even though I've been dying to.”

He holds his hand out for me to shake, a big sexy grin on his face. Is he flirting with me? I hope so because he’s hot as sin. His easy charm brings a smile to my face. Taking his offered hand, I shake it. The charge that I felt when he held my waist flares again, so I try to drop his hand the second it’s polite. He refuses to let go, so I attempt to brazen out the situation by continuing our conversation as if it isn't awkward standing here holding hands when we've only just met.

“Nice to officially meet you. I don’t really party that often. I’m surprised you’re at the same parties as Benji. Aren’t you a little old for that scene?” The second the words are out of my mouth, I cringe. I couldn’t sound more judgemental and prudish if I tried. Heat travels up my neck, and I turn red in front of the one man I don’t want to.

He laughs at me. “Yes, I suppose I am. I’m twenty-two. There’s not much for me to do around here since I’ve finished university. I actually organise most of the parties now that I’m living back here full time. You should come to the next one. I'll look after you any time you want. Give you anything you want.”

He winks at me, my face heating further. I'm not sure if I'm reading something into his words, but innuendo seems to be lacing his offer.

“I'll keep that in mind,” I tell him, deciding to take his words at face value. “Anyhow, it was nice to meet you, but I need to get going. It’s nearly midnight and I want to catch up with my friends before the fireworks.”

I really don't care about the fireworks. I need to get away from Brendan and my weird reaction to him. Tugging my hand from his, I don’t stop this time until he lets go. Before he does, he plants a kiss over my knuckles, finishing with a small bow.

Holy hell, I think he is flirting with me.

“It was a pleasure having you run into me,” he teases before he continues in a voice that’s deeper and smoother than usual. “I really hope you take me up on my offer. I think we could have a lot of fun together.”

Plastering a fake smile on my face, I pretend I still possess some composure. I’m still not certain if he’s flirting or being overly friendly. It really irks me that I’m behaving like this around him. Normally I’m cool, calm, and collected around the opposite gender, which would be expected considering I’ve grown up surrounded by them, but I can't get a read on Brendan's intentions. 

“Have a good night, Brendan,” I say my goodbye, effectively ending the conversation.

I walk off toward the restrooms, and it takes all of my effort not to turn back around to see if he’s watching me.

The empty restroom offers me refuge from the outside world, and time to get my shit back together. After doing my business, I check my reflection in the mirror as I wash my hands. I find that I’m a little flushed and that a lock of my hair has come loose from the messy bun on the top of my head. Otherwise, I look as good as I can.

Brendan has me confused, but I file it away to think about another time. Distractions are not something I need. I’m one-eyed about my future, wanting to become a criminal defence attorney after I finish school next year—much to my dad’s amusement—so I spend most of my free time studying.

I’ve seen Brendan around over the years, finding him really attractive even though he always has a different girl hanging off of him. Everyone knows that he doesn't date, preferring to add notches to his bedhead. Having never even been on a date before, I'm definitely not interested in becoming just one of his girls. I highly doubt I'll be taking him up on his offer, platonic or not. 

“Get it together, Lainey. You're making something out of nothing,” I mutter to myself. Why I'm even thinking about this, I have no idea. I'm still not one hundred percent sure he meant what I thought he did.

Complete darkness greets me when I venture outside. The lights in the yard and the town hall have been turned off in anticipation of the fireworks. Instead of attempting to find my way from the back of the hall to the front where everyone else is gathered, I make an on-the-spot decision to turn off the lights and stay here by myself. I can watch the fireworks from where I am, with the added bonus of not needing to deal with persistent idiots who want to ring in the New Year with kisses. Maybe this year Dad won’t feel the need to knock anyone out in my defence.

My dad’s not nicknamed Beast just because he’s a huge man. He also has a tendency to turn into a beast when he feels his family is being threatened. His explosions can be embarrassing.

Leaning back against the cinder-block wall, I listen as the countdown finishes and the fireworks begin. They’re spectacular as usual. As they’re reaching their peak, I hear someone moving next to me one moment before I’m pushed against the wall. Soft lips touch mine, a tongue prodding between my parted lips. My whole body falls rigid, my muscles tensing as I steady myself to deliver the full force of my knee between my attacker’s legs. 

I abort my attack when Brendan’s cologne permeates my senses, relaxing my leg.

Sensing my hesitation, Brendan pauses our kiss. “Happy New Year, Maddi,” he whispers against my mouth. His minty breath blows over my face, our breath mingling together as I sigh.

Brendan Taylor is kissing me. I can’t believe it. 

“Happy New Year, Brendan,” I murmur, returning his sentiment.

Confusion clouds my mind. I’m not sure how I should react to him. My confusion evaporates when, without another word and against my better judgement, he coaxes my arms around his neck and wraps his arms around my waist. He pulls me away from the wall and presses my soft body against his hard frame.

Feelings I’ve never felt before; feelings I can’t name course through me.

Without further thought, I follow his lead as he proceeds to give me the sweetest first kiss a girl could wish for. We’re still kissing when the lights come back on. The area around us grows louder as people begin milling back into the grounds, the pair of us ignoring them and continuing to kiss. After what feels like an eternity, Brendan steps away from me, smiling broadly. He gives me a quick, final kiss on the lips before he gently bites my clothed shoulder.

“You're so beautiful, and you're going to be all mine. I’m going to make sure of it,” he whispers against my neck before he turns and walks away without another word.

The passionate promise in his words takes my breath away, making me flush with excitement. They replay over and over in my head all night, along with my hope that he’ll seek me out at Kyle’s party. My wish isn’t granted because I don’t see him again for the rest of the night.

*

“Dad! Brendan Taylor’s at the door.”

My middle brother Joel’s yelling interrupts my attempted nap. My heart flips at the news. Jumping off my bed, I peek out of my bedroom door.

I had a little bit too much to drink with my friends last night—especially by my standards—so I’ve been moping around my room since I woke up just before lunchtime. Combining with my hangover is my confusion over what happened with Brendan last night. It’s resulted in quite the headache. I can’t see anyone in the living area so I assume they’re all out the back. Curiosity getting the better of me, I creep toward the back door.

I don’t know what to make of him turning up at our house after last night. He’s never been here in the six and a half years we’ve lived here. My biker family isn’t in the same social circle as the likes of Brendan and his fourth-generation farming family. In fact, they're polar opposites, considering Brendan’s father has been the local Member of Parliament for the last fifteen years and my dad’s the Vice President of an outlaw motorcycle club. The only time we mingle with their social class is at district events, and even then everyone tends to group into their own social circles.

“Madelaine, honey. Your dad wants you,” Wendy says quietly from behind me as she walks through the sliding glass door back into our house.

Startled, I almost jump out of my skin. My heart pounds harder, exacerbating my headache.

“They’re on the back deck waiting for you.”

“Who’s they?” I ask her, faking ignorance to see if she'll give me a heads up or pass on any gossip she knows. She smiles at me, seeing straight through my ruse, pointing toward the back of the house without saying another word.

Once she walks past me and into the kitchen, I check my reflection in the hall mirror, happy that I’ve at least had a shower and piled my long mane on top of my head in some semblance of an up-do. I wish I’d known that he was going to come here because I would have put some makeup on and worn something other than my normal tight jeans, singlet, and unbuttoned short-sleeved shirt. I giggle to myself at that lie—I’m pretty sure I’d still be wearing the same thing even with prior warning. The only really girly things about me are my long nails and my expensive addiction to designer shoes.

Walking through the house and out the back door, I find my dad and Brendan sitting in the entertaining area having a beer. Benji’s hovering as well; an unpleasant look on his face.

“Wendy said you wanted me, Dad?”

I smile at him trying to gauge his mood, and then at Brendan. He looks as gorgeous as ever; his chocolate brown hair, deep brown eyes, and tanned skin creating masculine perfection. Running my eyes over his lanky frame, I catalogue what he’s wearing—blue jeans that fit him just right, and a white shirt that stretches nicely across his muscled chest and shoulders. On his feet he has a pair of dusty work boots.

Country boy perfection; my friends described him as last night.

Personally, I was ambivalent toward him last night and confused by his strange way of approaching me before we kissed. My opinion that it was slightly creepy was played down by my romantic friends so I’d shut up. In the early hours of this morning, my very envious girlfriends—and a large amount of vodka—had helped me decide that I’d go on a date with Brendan on the off chance that he actually asked me after our kiss.

Apparently, he's so hot that my friends will kill me if I don’t accept any offer he makes.

Dad clears his throat, drawing my attention back to him. My father’s a huge man. Brendan is only slightly shorter, albeit a lot leaner. Dad's pretty intimidating, but Brendan seems to be holding his own at the moment. He looks relaxed enough.

From the corner of my eye, I can see his eyes moving over my form, his slow perusal causing my pulse to quicken. A blush rises to my cheeks when I notice that my father’s watching Brendan, the hardening of his eyes telling me that he doesn’t really appreciate what he’s witnessing.

When Dad sits straighter in his chair and pats the seat next to him, I sit and wait for someone to speak. “Baby girl, Brendan’s dropped in to ask me if he can take you out on a date. I told him that it’s up to you what you do. Although, I’ve warned him that if you say yes and he goes and hurts you in any way, I’ll fuck him up. Permanently.”

For the first time in my life, I wince at my father calling me baby girl. He’s addressed me like that since the day I was born. I’ve never really thought about how young it made me sound until I had a man I wanted to impress.

“That goes double for me,” I hear Benji mutter.

Wow. That’s strange. I thought Benji would be keen for me to do something other than study. He’s always mocking me about being “Nigel No-Friends” since I only have a handful of friends.

Ignoring Benji, I grin at my straightforward dad. As much as he annoys me sometimes, I’m my dad’s girl, and I love him to pieces. The threat he issued is such a typical thing for my domineering father to say, and I’d be lying if I said I didn't appreciate his concern. Brendan’s the first man to ever have the balls to ask Dad if he can take me out. My poor father’s entering unchartered waters right along with me.

I regard Brendan inquiringly. His wide eyes and fake-looking grin tell me that he’s a little intimidated by Dad’s speech. “What did you have in mind?”

Sympathy wells within me for Brendan and the situation he’s put himself in for me. It's probably not the usual route he takes to ask a girl out. Actually, it definitely isn't, since I've never heard of him asking a girl to date him. It's unfortunate, and a little embarrassing, since I'm seventeen not thirteen, but Brendan will need to get used to Dad’s forthright ways if he wants to take this past one date.

“I thought I could pick you up and we could head into Roma for dinner on Friday night. If you don’t already have plans?”

“That sounds good to me. What time would you like to pick me up?” I respond without hesitation. Benji groans at my acceptance. I shoot him daggers with my eyes before returning my gaze to Dad and Brendan. I have no idea what Benji’s problem is right now. I thought they were friends. Brendan’s handsome face splits into a cheeky, satisfied grin at my response, causing Dad to put his beer down a bit harder than necessary. At his smug response, regret filters through me.

I know Brendan’s used to girls jumping to be with him. I wished I’d played a little harder to get, just so he realises I'm not easy like the other girls he messes with. I'm not one for game playing, so this thought occurs too late to be of benefit.

“Would five o'clock be all right with you?”

I nod in agreement, my cool exterior belying the excitement churning inside. I can't believe Brendan Taylor just asked me out.

Brendan turns his attention to my dad. “What time do I need to have Maddi home, Mr O’Brien?

“It’s Beast, Brendan. No man in my family answers to Mr O’Brien.” He chuckles in his deep voice, his demeanour a tiny fraction friendlier. Brendan did the right thing by asking Dad about my curfew. If he keeps this up, he'll win him over in no time. Hopefully.

“I think midnight is a fair time,” Dad answers.

My smile broadens at Dad’s answer. I’d expected him to say something ridiculous like nine-thirty. Dad wiggles his thick, black eyebrows at me, knowing he’s pleased me with his answer.

He makes idle chitchat with Brendan for a few minutes as they finish their beers. I sit back in my chair smiling—not adding much to the conversation—my day made, and my hangover forgotten. Brendan soon says his goodbyes to both of us, reiterating to me that he’ll be here at five o'clock in three night’s time to pick me up for our dinner date.

After Brendan leaves, Benji throws himself down at the table with us. Anger clouding his features, he lets us know in no uncertain terms what he thinks about my decision to go on a date with Brendan.

“Dad, you can’t let her go out with him. He’s bad fucking news. He goes through women like you wouldn’t believe. I won’t have my sister getting humped and dumped by some farmer’s asshole kid.” Benji points at me. “You’re way too good for him, Mads.”

“Oh, shut up, Benjamin.” My blood boils at his insinuation that Brendan will be able to get me into bed after one date. I have more respect for myself than that. I hadn’t kissed anyone properly until Brendan last night—let alone slept with them—and it’d take much more than one date for me to even consider it. I’m saving myself for an all-consuming love like my parents. I don’t care if it makes me seem old fashioned or weird. And if Brendan, or any other man doesn't like that, that's their problem, not mine. “I’m not a slut like you. It’s one date. It mightn’t even go any further than that. It’s my choice if it does.”

“I agree, baby girl,” Dad interrupts. His voice has dropped a notch; a sign he’s working himself into a rage at Benji for daring to question his decision. Pointing one of his sausage-like fingers in Benji’s face, he stares at him through narrowed eyes that are designed to intimidate. My twin struggles to keep from retreating, barely holding his ground in the face of Dad’s ire. If I wasn't so pissed at him, I'd be proud. Even as the mouthiest of my siblings, I still find it hard to directly question Dad. “She has a good head on her shoulders, which is more than I can say for you most of the fucking time. I’ve warned that kid that I'll fuck him up if he hurts her, and I know she’ll come to me if he fucks up in any way.”

“You’re being fucking stupid, Mads. You’re gonna get hurt,” Benji yells at me, giving up arguing with Dad. He charges inside, slamming the back door behind him.

Dad shakes his head at me in sympathy and I shrug, brushing aside Benji’s prediction.

We have no idea how right Benji will end up being.