Page 18 of Sunshine
“Yeah. She had me over regularly for…” He pauses, smiling. “Well, not tea.” He gives a deep throaty chuckle that humsthrough me. “Your Grandmother was a wonderful lady. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“None of this matters,” I say sharply, again feeling the stab of grief at the mental image of Gran sharing her whiskey with …with…this man. I wave my hands in the air as if the simple act can shoo away my grief,this manwho is nothing but an inconvenience, and the whole mess my life is in. “I have to get back to work.”
“Right. Your grandmother mentioned you’re an author. What do you write?”
“Did you think I stormed over here for a friendly chat, Case Callen?” I snap, rolling my eyes.
“I hoped…”
I cut him off, but his words hit me in the gut.He hoped?“Can you just keep it down over here?” It doesn’t come out so much like a question as it does a demand.
“Tessa, I’m not sure how easy that’ll be.” He looks back over his shoulder at the building site. “I’m on a deadline…”
“It’sTess. And so am I!” I bark, extremely flustered. “It’s why I came here to the country… for peace and quiet.” Deep down I know I’m being bitchy and reactive, and he’s undeserving of my wrath, but instead of checking myself, I turn on my heel, wincing at the sharp pain and walk away.
“You’ll be hearing from my lawyer, Case Callen. I don’t know how you convinced my senile old grandmother to sell this piece of property, but you’ll be taking your noisy entourage somewhere else soon enough.” I look over my shoulder for a second, flicking my hair as I do, trying my darnedest not to limp as I head for the safety of the cottage. The place where sexy, rugged, but sweet-tempered men don’t try to trick me into liking them.
“If Lily was senile, so am I,” he says on a holler to my back.
“That explains a lot,” I quip, not breaking stride. I’m not sure, as I’ve put a bit of distance between us, but I think I hear him whistle at my words.
And as if confirming it, he hollers, “She was right about your attitude.”
I don’t spin back and pin him with the look he deserves, mostly because Gran did tell me that. All the time. When I was younger, and she used her damn wooden spoon when she did. But in these last years the only time my attitude came out with her was when we discussed Gary. Turned out Gran was right about a lot of things.
“You need a good strong man, Tess Harlow. One that will put you first, in your place, and take care of your heart. Not that spineless, and probably dickless, twat.”
“Gran!”
“Don’t you Gran me, young lady! You still need a spoon across your backside after all these years.”
And it’s those words and Paige’s book that spark a fantasy involving my sexy new neighbor spanking the attitude right out of me before he takes me roughly, bent across the kitchen table. I’m still thinking about as I sit down at my computer to write. And write I do—just not what I should be writing.
Chapter Five
Case
I watch Tessa Harlow walk away, curiously. She’s definitely a spitfire, like those sexy sparkling eyes suggested last night. I should be pissed; she was rude, haughty, and threatening, and had zero right to be, but I’m not the least bit angry. And I certainly don’t want to exert my power and will over her like one of my former MC brothers might. Well, maybe my power, but only if she were willing. Nothing like holding a feisty, but consenting, girl, down. Maybe I’m not angry because Lily warned me. Maybe because I know too much about Tessa’s past. Or maybe because I’ve always liked the feisty ones. Either way, at this point in my life, feisty is exactly the opposite of what I need. Too bad my dick doesn’t agree.
I need to push Tessa out of my head so I can focus on work, but the woman’s firecracker attitude, gorgeous face and hot-as-hell body aren’t the only parts of her that pull at me. There’s something in her eyes, something I connect with on a deeper level—pain, loneliness, pride maybe? And it reminds me of a conversation I had with her grandmother before she died.
Tessa’s grandmother was a no-bullshit, straight shooter who never sugarcoated anything, including what a stubborn diva hergranddaughter could be—and her opinion on how to fix that—but there were a lot of good things she’d said too. And there was no mistaking the love in her eyes. Something about her expression when she spoke of Tessa struck a chord. Maybe because, like Lily Harlow would do anything for Tessa, I would do anything for Reece.
I knew the story behind why Lily raised her granddaughter. How Tessa’s parents were humanitarians, who wanted to help the world, but forgot they had a daughter who needed them. I’m sure it’s this that’s the cause of Tessa’s prickly, standoff-ish ways. And maybe that’s where I can relate to the younger Ms. Harlow.
It’s why I became a cop. Law enforcement was a brotherhood. Your fellow officers had your back, and you had theirs, but that loyalty went even deeper in Motorcycle Club life—maybe because you lived and breathed it twenty-four-seven. The bad and often horrific shit they did, and the members that got off on it held no appeal to me, but the guys who were like me, who grew up in loveless families, never having anyone that understood them—they were the reason I was drawn so deeply into club life and why I secretly struggle with betraying them.
I don’t sleep well; I jog every night, and work out for hours. I keep trying to kill the internal struggle. My strong sense of justice is at war with the bad shit I had to do undercover, and the fiercely loyal side of me battles with the cop that betrayed some of the men I’d come to consider brothers.
I shove the derailed thoughts aside, hearing Lily’s voice in my head again.
“She’s a good girl. Sweet, loyal and loving, but she’s often clueless how she comes across and speaks before she thinks. Sometimes my girl forgets how to interact with people outside of the ones she makes up in her head.That’s her parent’s fault. And by the time I’d gotten her, she’d already learned that the world was a disappointing place, and things were much better in her made-up worlds.
She was a feisty one, probably got that from me, but broken too. My girl needed a lot of love, attention and sometimes some good old-fashioned discipline to pull her out of her head—help her see I was stickin’ by her, that I loved her, and that she could trust that I wasn’t leaving her, but that I wasn’t putting up with her shenanigans either.”
Her eyes had darted up to mine as soon as she’d said it. She watched me for my reaction, and when I gave her none, she continued.
“Now I don’t believe in rough-handling, Case Callen. Know that now. What I do believe in is discipline that comes from a place of care and is given only when needed for someone’s own good…”She grinned then.“Or wanted.”Her grin had turned into a wide smile, showing me a gap where she was missing an eyetooth which somehow only added to her feisty old lady look.
