Taming Crow (Hells Saints Motorcycle Club) (8 page)

She had tried to take back those words. She had tried to make it right. She had fought beyond reason and hurt and her pride and had desperately tried to repair that damage.

But it had been too late.

The email that Melissa had begun penning to Jesse almost as soon as the door closed behind him remained unopened and unread. He had died before he could read her sad apology. Her husband had left this life bearing the weight of her thoughtless, selfish, angry words in his heart.

There were some acts in this world that were truly reprehensible.

And unforgivable.

Sending your husband off to war with hate in your heart, even for just a minute, had to be high on that list.

And Melissa despised herself for it.

She looked longingly at the bottle of wine now and thought about pouring herself just one more glass. She would have loved to let the chardonnay act as a shield against the nightmares that threatened her sanity on nights like this.

But she shoved the bottle aside. The day ahead was going to be hard enough without adding a hangover to it. Melissa had always been a lightweight when it came to drinking. Jesse had teased her about it often.

Jesse.

Melissa looked up into the inky night sky just in time to see a star shoot across the heavens. Her eyes softened and her heart skipped a beat at the beauty left by its blazing trail. She closed her eyes, tilted her head and blew out a kiss. Then with a sigh, Melissa corked up the bottle and headed back into the house.

The next morning Crow glanced out the window to see Melissa and Jett walking down the driveway towards the school bus stop. Melissa had outfitted her son to the max in rain gear and Crow couldn’t help but shake his head. The kid was covered from head to toe in water-repellent plastic—a brightly colored kiddie umbrella, a neon green raincoat, a frog-head hat and dinosaur-printed boots. Crow could see Jett’s mouth moving at the usual non-stop rate while Melissa held his hand and nodded the way she usually did when she walked with him.

But there was something off with her today.

While Melissa had armed her son to the teeth against the light rain, she hadn't even bothered to put a jacket on. Usually, she was fully dressed whenever he saw her. This morning she was wearing pajama pants and a too-big hoodie. With a sad slope to her shoulders and a tilt to her head, Melissa had the look of someone who already had had a very long day. And the day had barely begun.

Concerned now, Crow watched as Melissa put Jett on the bus and stood looking down the road long after the bus had disappeared from view. Then she began to trudge back down the driveway, her flip flops splashing in the muddy tire ruts. Crow scrubbed a hand over his jaw when she didn’t even bother to avoid the puddles that she had steered Jett so carefully around just a few minutes earlier.

We’re fine.

Crow had woken up to find those words still heavy on his mind. He had gone to bed feeling like shit about what he had said to Melissa and he had woke up the same way. Starting an argument with her had been the farthest thing from his mind. He had even felt a quick burst of satisfaction when he saw how she had smiled at the little nail project.

And he had been hungry for a taste of whatever it was that smelled so good coming from that little kitchen of hers.

But instead of home-made, she fed him that
you don’t know
us
crap.

Fucking straight he didn’t know her.

How the hell was he supposed to make that happen? Crow had experienced a lot in his life, but rejection from a woman was definitely not one of them.

And if Crow had any doubt about whether or not
they
were
fine
, it was gone the minute that Jett had jumped to his mother's side to comfort and reassure her. At six years old, the boy felt he had to take that on.

Nothing
fine
about that.

But still those words he threw at her were totally out of line.

He knew that saying those things, whether they were true or not, was a major dick move on his part.

And now remorse had set in and he had a fleeting thought that he should go talk to her.

And maybe even apologize.

But the word sorry did not exactly roll easily off his tongue.

As the early morning thunder rolled and lightening split the sky, Crow made a decision. He went downstairs, grabbed his tools and headed next door.

Crow paused in front of the cottage's large picture window to see that Melissa had settled deeply into the sofa with her hands palming a steaming cup, the wet hoodie replaced with a tank top. Her shoulders were covered by the throw blanket that she kept on the back of her couch.

And she was laughing.

Or crying.

He couldn’t tell which.

When she pointed the remote to the television Crow looked past her to the screen.

What he saw filled him with an instant fury. What the hell was she doing?

Crow made his way to the front of the house and pounded loudly on the door. No goddamn answer. He waited for maybe a second and a half before he began banging again. Then again. Then finally in a rapid succession of pounds.

After what seemed like a million years, but was probably just over a minute, Crow finally heard the chain lock slide free. The creak of the door thundered loud in his ears as Melissa opened it just a fraction of an inch. When she saw him standing there, she groaned.

“What do you want?” She stood mostly behind the safety of the door. Her voice sounded hoarse and her eyes were red.

“Had some time this morning and thought I’d come over and look at that sink.” Crow shoved his foot in the door.

“Sink?” Melissa scowled at him and increased the pressure of the door against his foot.

“Yeah, Murphy told me you were having trouble with… uh…leaking pipes.”

“I’m not…. they’re not…” Melissa looked confused. “No leaks.”

“Mind if I come in and check?”

He pushed the door open and stepped in, causing her to stumble backward. Crow reached out to steady Melissa and stop her from falling.

“Yeah, I mind,” Melissa wrenched herself out of his grasp and moved to shut the door on him, but it was too late. Crow was already halfway into her living room.

Her eyes met his in an angry stand-off until Melissa abruptly surrendered out a heavy sigh. “The rain is getting my floor wet.”

“Not anymore.” He kicked the door shut behind him with his heel.

“This isn’t a good time,” Melissa stepped away from him.

“I think it is,” he growled.

“It isn’t,” she growled back.

“I’m not gonna stand here debating this, Melissa. Got to get to leaking pipes early. Water damage could cost me a bundle down the line. I’d really hate to have to raise your rent to cover that shit because my timing isn’t goddamn convenient for you.” He threw her a calculated look.

“I’m not paying you a dime more, Crow. If that’s what this is about, you can forget it.” Melissa narrowed her eyes then she sniffled into a tissue.

Crow took another step closer. His big body filled the small room.

“You sick?” he asked.

“What?” Melissa stiffened and pulled the blanket tighter around herself.

“Not looking so good,” he assessed her.

“
I’m
fine
,
”
she spat. “Do whatever you have to do. I’m not in the mood to argue with you today.” Melissa put her hands up in surrender and moved aside.

“Well, that’s a fucking first,” Crow muttered under his breath.

He caught the dirty look she threw him and thought that was an improvement. A pissed off Melissa was a whole lot better than a sad, crying Melissa. Suddenly the loosely wrapped blanket slipped off her shoulder and Crow’s eyes followed the smooth expanse of skin down to the soft globes of her breasts. When Melissa noticed his wandering gaze she threw him another long angry look, made an exaggerated display of covering herself up again, turned her back on him and began to lead the way to the kitchen. Crow smirked inwardly at the kitten showing her claws. The he planted himself in front of the television and grabbed the remote from where it sat on the couch.

“What are you watching?” he called out to her.

Melissa gazelled out of the kitchen and practically leaped over the couch when she realized he had not followed her. He had no idea she could move that fast.

“I thought you were here for the pipes.” She placed herself in front of the television. Panic edged her voice.

Crow craned his neck to look past her.

“Hey, is that you?”

“Give me the remote.” Melissa stretched out her arm in a defensive move and her hand shook.

“Hell, yeah. That’s you,” he continued unfazed.

Crow held the small electronic device up and just out of her reach while out of the corner of his eye he watched Melissa pale before him.

“Barely recognized you smiling.” He ignored her stricken look and stood before the screen.

“Crow…” Melissa exhaled in a long mournful sound that he paid absolutely no attention to.

She waited for him to hand her the remote, but when he didn’t, she sighed with a note of surrender and said simply, “It was a good day.”

A much happier, slightly younger version of Melissa smiled and waved a bright bouquet of large blossoms at them from the screen. She wore a goofy grin and a blue fluffy bathrobe. Her hair was piled high in an elaborate up-do with a string of white pearls threaded through the shining, tumbling curls. A bejeweled, lacy, white wedding dress hung on the closet door behind her.

“So this was your…?” He turned to Melissa.

“My wedding day,” she said to the screen.

Crow had a fleeting thought of his own five-minute Vegas ceremony before he felt a surge of jealous fury rifle through him.

Not fucking happening.

“I love weddings. Let’s watch it,” Crow said.

That should do it.

Melissa recoiled as if she had been shot.

“So you and…” Crow paused and rubbed a hand over the scruff of his chin. “What was his name?”

“Name?” Melissa frowned at him.

"Yeah. That guy you married … what was his name?"

“My husband,” Melissa murmured.

“Not anymore, Melissa," Crow said with purpose.

She took a step away from him then. Her hands made a movement that reminded Crow of a broken-winged bird.

What the hell are you doing?
Crow asked himself
. What the fuck are you doing?

He found himself sitting on a whole boatload of feelings that were not at all familiar to him. And he couldn't help but think that along with all the other forms of depravity he enjoyed, he didn't need to add a goddamn widow fetish to the list.

But there it was.

Goddamn prissy, mousy, holier-than-thou, soccer mom Melissa. She was skinny, uptight and totally immune to the badass biker thing he had going on. She avoided him, ignored him and called him out on his bullshit every step of the way.

And it totally turned him on.

Very dirty thoughts of what it would take to unlock the cage that she had trapped herself in rose and surged through his mind. His mind suddenly filled with erotic images that made his balls ache and tighten. Melissa Raymoor …naked and moaning beneath him. Yeah, he had palmed his dick more than once in the last couple of weeks thinking of what that would look like. And now here she was standing in front of him—lost and vulnerable and wanting. Yearning for a guy who wasn't him.

Not. Fucking. Happening.

Crow picked up the CD case labeled “Melissa and Jesse’s wedding.”

“Jesse. His name was Jesse,” Crow said forcefully.

“Don’t,” she whispered to him.

“Don’t what?” He leaned into her.

“Just don’t. Not today. Please don’t.” Melissa looked away from him as her lip began to quiver.

Goddamn it.

When he saw that look of confused pain cross her face, Crow imagined taking her into his arms. He imagined pressing kisses against those red lips of hers until her panties were wet. Crow wanted to caveman Melissa up over his shoulder and take her to his bed until all thoughts of
Jesse
disappeared once and for all and forever from her mind.

But instead he said, “Are you gonna sit on that couch all day crying and watching it play out over and over again?” He placed his hand on her chin and tilted her face up.

“I’m not doing that,” she said under her breath.

“Babe, you got tears all over your face and the remote’s on repeat.”

Melissa slumped in defeat. Then she stepped away from him.

“It’s my anniversary,” she explained.

“And this is how he would want you to spend it? Holed up all day in your pajamas crying about your wedding day? You think that he would have wanted you wallowed in grief for something that’s gone and never coming back?”

Melissa swallowed hard. Her hand made a sudden move to her stomach like she had just gotten kicked by a horse. Like she was going to be sick.

“This bullshit is not happening,” he said commandingly. “We got shit to do. A lot of things to take care of today.”

“What things?” She eyed him with suspicion.

Crow searched his mind. He had no clue. What the fuck would get her out of the house?

“Shopping,” he answered.

All women liked to shop.

“Shopping?” she repeated.

“Yeah. We need to go shopping. But first I need to look at those pipes. Then I'm going to do that inspection of the house I mentioned yesterday. I'm pretty sure that I felt a couple of soft spots on the kitchen floor the first time I walked in. I'm going to go through the house and make a list—there's a shitload of stuff that needs fixing everywhere else. Then you're going to go out with me to help pick paint colors and stuff like that,” Crow explained.

He had made the whole thing up, but the more he thought about it, it all needed to be done.

Crow positioned himself between Melissa and the television. Then he turned it off with a decisive click and threw the offending remote out of her reach. It landed with a soft thump somewhere on the worn carpet.

Melissa turned to look at Crow, her face a mass of confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“A soft spot on the floor could mean rot. You don't want Jett falling through and getting hurt. I need to get floor boards and stuff to fix that.”