Edge Of Fear (Arrow's Edge MC Book 4) by Freya Barker (best love novels of all time .TXT) 📗

he looks good in a white T-shirt and a pair of old work pants covered with paint stains.

“Oh, I thought of it, but had a feeling you might not answer, so I let myself in.”

What do you say to that?

Especially since he’s right, I probably wouldn’t have opened the door.

Yesterday after he dropped me off, I started thinking about our earlier disagreement.

I like him—a lot—but I’m not so sure someone with a personality as big as his would be good for me. Hell, I left home young because there was no room for me to be my own person. Then I met Dave, who was charismatic and charming, and he completely overwhelmed me. I’ve been able to be my own person for the past six or so years and I like who I am now.

Someone like Tse, who already has issues with boundaries, could easily force me back into the shadows without intending to. The text exchange last night seemed to underscore that.

So no, I wouldn’t have opened the door, and yet here he is, in my bedroom, breaking down my boundaries.

I turn on my heel and without a word dart into the bathroom, locking the door behind me.

Fifteen minutes later when I walk out, he’s no longer in my bedroom, but I can smell fresh coffee brewing. Even though it’s only eight in the morning, I get dressed for work, taking my time, and secretly hoping he’ll have to leave before I’m done.

No such luck, when I walk into the small living room, he’s standing by the window, drinking coffee.

“You made coffee.”

He turns and sets down his cup before walking right up to me and folding me in his arms. I’m instantly enveloped in his earthy scent, his strong hold, and his calming energy. Without thinking I slip my arms around his waist and burrow in.

“There she is,” he mumbles, resting his chin on the top of my head.

He makes it hard for me to remember all the reasons why this thing between us isn’t a good idea.

“I’m scared.”

His arms squeeze a little tighter.

“I’m gettin’ that.”

We stand like that for a bit, arms around each other, when he speaks again.

“Asked you yesterday to take me as I am. Shoulda clarified that goes both ways.”

I rub my cheek against his chest.

“We’re so different.”

“Yeah, we are, in a lot of ways. I’m sure there’ll be times we butt heads, but that doesn’t mean I wanna give up before we’ve even tried.”

It’s my turn to squeeze him back.

“I’m a coward,” I say by way of apology.

He leans back, forcing me to look up at him.

“Nah. Wasn’t that long ago I had my own doubts.”

“What changed?” I ask, my heart thudding in my chest.

“Nothing, other than realizing my doubts had little to do with you and everything with me.”

For a man who at first impression seemed a player—shallow—he sure puts me to shame. He shows a lot more insight and depth of character than I would’ve given him credit for. Thus proving how true his words ring for me as well.

This isn’t about him; it’s about me. About fear of my own weakness, instead of trusting my strength.

I unwrap my arms and lift my hands to his face, pulling him down so I can reach his lips. Then I rise on my toes and apologize with a kiss.

_______________

It’s not even nine when I park in my slot behind the restaurant.

My car is the only one there.

Mandy, who’s taken over the early shift for Bernie, won’t likely be here before ten since most deliveries are scheduled later in the morning.

I glance to the edge of the parking lot but there’s no one there. Maybe that extra police presence Detective Ramirez promised is proving to be a deterrent.

I get out of my Jeep and head for the back door, my key at the ready. Before I step inside, I turn and wave at Tse, who followed me in a beat-up pickup truck filled with tools. He insisted on following and didn’t seem to care he’d have people waiting for him at the building site. Since I knew there’d likely be no one in this early, I didn’t argue.

Nor did I object when he said someone would be there at the end of business every day. The club owns the restaurant, they can do whatever they feel is necessary, and truthfully, I’m relieved. I wasn’t looking forward to walking out at night to a dim parking lot by myself.

The first thing I do in my office is turn on the monitor with the camera feed. Then I spend the next half hour or so going over Sunday night’s print-offs and the deposit slip Mack prepared, entering all the numbers into my online software and my ledger. Call me paranoid, but even with the entire accounting system computerized, I still like to keep a paper file as a backup.

I focus my attention on the monitor when I notice movement and watch the Clover Produce truck pull into the parking lot. A little early, it’s not even quarter to ten. I watch as the driver backs up to the rolling delivery door at the other side of the bin, the back of the truck no longer visible to the camera. Guess I should go let him in since Mandy’s not here yet.

Heading through the kitchen to the storage room beside the walk-in cooler, I hit the button to lift the door. The driver is already rolling up the loading door at the back of the truck.

“Morning.”

He turns around at the sound of my voice, eyebrows raised.

“Where’s Mandy?”

“She’s not here yet. I can give you a hand.”

“I’ve got it,” he grumbles, turning his back.

Friendly guy, obviously not much of a morning person.

Instead of unloading our supplies, he appears to be rearranging the rear of his rig, every so often glancing my way. Maybe he forgot to load our order?

“Everything all right?” I ask, taking a step closer.

There is no answer as he keeps his back turned and I’m about