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

that once you take that first chance—make that first big jump—the ones to follow become easier. Not that the risk is less, but you find out the rewards are worth it. It’s like graduating from a merry-go-round to a roller coaster. Less safe and predictable, with extreme highs and significant lows, but the view from up high is amazing, even if the dips are tough.

“I can hear you thinking from inside,” Tse says, as he steps out on the deck.

Van, who eventually came to lie down beside my chair, gets up and does his cute little butt-wag. The dog, another leap that is paying off in spades. It’s amazing how fast we can become attached. To animals and to people.

He leans over my chair and I tilt my head back to share a sweet good morning kiss that tastes of coffee.

“Woolgathering,” I mumble, and he grins down at me before taking the other chair.

“You do that quite a bit,” he observes.

I glance over and see from the look in his eyes it’s not an accusation, it’s curiosity.

“Guess it’s what happens when you’re used to being alone. You learn to process on the inside.”

He turns and lets his gaze roam the view.

“I can appreciate that, but sometimes it’s helpful just to talk things through.”

I smile to myself.

“Like you do?” I tease and watch his lips twitch into a grin.

“What can I say; I’m a work in progress.” Those warm eyes swing to me and some of that weight lifts off when I see the sparkle. “I’m even learning to listen, should you want to try me out.”

I hesitate only for a moment.

“I was thinking how much I’ve changed in the few months I’ve been here. How much my life has changed from what I was used to.”

“In a good way, I hope?”

“A little scary, a little sad, but yeah, for the most part.”

He reaches and grabs my free hand in his. I love the feel of his callused palm against my soft one.

“Are you talking about the baby that never was?” he asks gently.

My smile for him is a little wobbly but determined.

“Mmm. But I was mostly thinking about the way I’ve thrown caution to the wind at every opportunity, when I’ve always been so careful. So responsible.” I snort. “My parents will be thrilled.”

Gah…my parents.

They’re supposed to be here tomorrow, but weren’t sure when. When I mentioned I might be working, they told me not to worry, that they had everything they needed in their RV and would wait until I got home.

I have no idea how long they intend to stay. They visited me in Denver all of two times in the years I’d been there. They hated the city and stayed for only two days each time. This place is much more up their alley. Durango is more relaxed, quaint, and they’d definitely love it up here where they can be one with nature.

“What time are Blossom and Duff gonna get here?”

“They didn’t say. Also, my parents’ names are really Maria and Gustavo Vieira,” I explain. “They got caught up in the seventies. Moved into a commune on the edge of the Tonto National Forest, about two hours east of Phoenix, when they were barely of legal age, and changed their names. They still live there, like some of the other die-hards, although things have evolved some since the seventies. They don’t call them communes anymore, but eco-villages.”

“You were born in a commune?”

He seems stumped and I can’t help laugh.

“We all were, and let me tell you, it’s a miracle there aren’t ten of us. They were already thirty by the time they had my sister, and my brother was a surprise baby at forty-two. He’s twenty-five and lives in Vegas.”

“So, I’m surprised they gave you such a classic name.”

“Dad says I was named for Sophia Loren, his lifelong crush. Bianca was for Mick Jagger’s wife—big Rolling Stone fans, my parents—and Arlo was for—”

“Arlo Guthrie,” Tse guesses, interrupting me. “I’m starting to see the pattern.”

“Right. The irony is, despite our somewhat eccentric upbringing, all three of us lived up to our more conventional names. Although, I’m arguably the most straightlaced of the bunch. At least I used to be. Hence my earlier point that my parents will be over the moon to see I’ve wandered off the beaten path.”

He brings my hand to his lips and kisses my knuckles.

“You mean living here. Out in the boonies.”

I glance over at him, taking in his messy hair, unkempt beard, and tattoos peeking out of his shirt and covering his hands. I’m expecting over the moon may not sufficiently describe my parents’ reaction when they meet Tse. Heck, even his name will go over well.

“That, plus the fact one look at you will have my mother convinced, after years of being a devout atheist, there is a God after all.”

Tse

“Make sure to keep an eye on him. Don’t want him taking off.”

“He won’t.”

I hand over the pop and the small box of donut holes I picked up for him and watch as the dog follows Ravi to the wheelbarrow in the driveway. Paco had a load of gravel hauled in this morning to take care of the worst of the potholes and ruts left behind from all the recent traffic. He eventually wants it asphalted or something, but for now is content to keep it as level as possible. Ravi was given that task.

I just got back from dropping Sophia at the restaurant. I’ve only been gone maybe half an hour but already I can see progress. Yuma and Honon are perched on the ridge—the beam bridging the roof rafters, hammering down sheathing—while Paco and Ouray measure and cut the next piece.

Ouray must’ve arrived while I was gone. He looks up when I approach with the tray of coffees and box of donuts I picked up in town. I whistle to the guys on the roof and hold it up before setting it on the stack of lumber beside the saw.

“You