I slam the lid closed and run my hands through my hair, aggravated.
“What’s got you all pent up this morning?” Pax asks. “You need me to get you some Midol or something?”
“Yeah… that or a new conscience would be great!” I mutter inaudibly.
“Want to go for a ride down to the Club?”
“Sure, why not? Sitting around here isn’t exactly entertaining at the fucking moment.”
“Yeah, well if you prefer, I can definitely find a way to entertain your sassy little mouth instead,” he offers.
I flip him the bird and rip the leather jacket he forced me to buy down from the hook and head out to the garage. I’m miserable and I know it’s unfair to him, but still, it’s better me than him.
I follow behind him as he pulls onto the street, watching as loose wisps of his hair sway in the wind because he’s decided that riding the Hog means it’s safe enough for him to not wear a helmet; yet another argument we had over the weekend that didn’t end in hate-fucking… only a yelling match. He won.
It is what it is though, he’s a grown man I figure, so, if he wants to ride without protection, who am I to say otherwise?
He’s deliberately slow with his speed this morning… probably because he’s not wearing a helmet, fucking brat.
Annoyed, I pull out ahead of him and engage the clutch and grip the throttle until I hit eighty, feeling the intense pressure of the wind against my chest. I feel free, no longer angry or guilty; it’s just me and the bike navigating together, and I love it.
I pull in behind the Club and hop off the bike, turning to wait for Pax to enter the lot. I can hear his bike less than thirty feet away as I remove my helmet and stretch. He comes barreling in beside me and comes to a screeching stop, and I can tell he is pissed as he hops off the Harley and fucks with his wind tousled hair.
“What the fucking fuck, Kirsten? You had to be doing eighty back there! Do you have a fucking death wish?”
His attitude is complete bullshit… Mr. I don’t have to wear a helmet.
“No…” I say, crossing my arms, “I was simply trying to have a bonding moment with the bike.”
“That’s not what that was, and you know it,” he says, yanking the helmet from my hands. “If you can’t be responsible when you ride, you can’t fucking ride, Vix.”
I scoff and follow him into the Club as he slams the door behind us, pushes me into the wall, and begins searching my pockets.
“What the fuck, Pax? You’re being an asshole!”
“And you’re being a brat!”
“A brat?” I yell. “Oh, I can show you a brat!”
I bite his arm that’s pressed against my chest holding me in place, but he doesn’t even flinch as he finds my bike keys, waves them in front of my face, and smiles.
“You are officially grounded,” he says as he shoves them in his pocket.
“You can’t fucking ground me! They’re my bikes… now give me the keys back.”
“Or what? You gonna bite me again?”
I stare at his cocky face, feeling my blood boil and decide to walk away. He is such a dick right now.
I pour myself a drink and sit at the bar, watching as he pulls out a book and starts to read at one of the tables.
Seriously? What the fuck? Since when does he read?
Now I know he’s just being a douchebag and trying to teach me some sort of Pax is boss lesson. He’s probably going through hate-fuck withdrawal, and this is my punishment.
Without thinking, I launch a beer mug across the room and nail the wall with it, the sound of it shattering on impact startling us both.
“Are you insane?” Pax growls, slamming his book on the table. “I should record you right now so that you can see how much you look like your crazy mother!”
Instantly, my hand grabs another mug and I smash it exactly where I stand, as every nerve in my body twitches.
“Say it again, Whiskey, I fucking dare you!”
“I don’t think I need to,” he says shaking his head. “I’ll see you later, when you’re done behaving like a lunatic.”
I watch as he walks toward the door and it takes everything in me not to throw another mug straight at his head.
When I hear the Harley pull away, my heart sinks in my chest, and I can’t help but feel stupid and pathetic, I’m behaving exactly like my mother, and I know it.
By the time I get the shards of glass swept up, I feel much calmer and pour myself a drink while I sit, thinking. I know I need to get this burden off of my chest already. I have to tell Pax the truth so we can move on and I can stop being such a bitch.
I start the long ass walk up the Hill, thinking of all the ways I can break the news to Pax, also contemplating all of the various ways I can apologize. Not just for lying either, or for supporting Verna financially in her decision to cut ties with a part of their past. What I really need to apologize for is losing my temper and treating him the way I did, but I’m not sorry about speeding on the bike, that was absolutely on purpose.
I finally reach the house after an hour of walking and I head to the back. Not finding Pax in the guesthouse I wander over to the main house, knowing he’s probably hounding Natasha for something to eat. I enter through the kitchen, spotting both sets of bike keys on the countertop. I shove them in my pocket and head
