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

with Nosh on the other side of the bar, glaring at me.

“Was easily fixed,” I dismiss the chief before motioning to Shilah, who is tending bar. “Hit me up.”

“Would’a thought you’d make better use of your time than that,” Ouray mumbles beside me, and I turn in my seat.

“I don’t get you. Last month you basically told me to back the fuck off, and now you’re shoving her in my face.”

His face cracks into one of those smug smirks that get under my skin and I close my fist around the bottle Shilah slides toward me.

“Letting you yahoos figure this out on your own wasn’t working, so I figured I’d jump in. The kid had a month to try and get somewhere without you horning in, but it’s pretty clear he’s spinning his wheels. Thought you’d welcome the opportunity to try.”

“Jesus, man. You matchmaking now?”

“Fuck no, but this tug-of-war between you two is a drain on my goddamn club. One of you better piss or get off the pot when it comes to that girl or it’ll never end.”

“Been easier to leave her in Denver,” I grumble, tilting the bottle against my lips.

“Not like she wouldn’t come to visit, and I don’t wanna deal with you guys pissing all over each other every time she does. Time to settle this once and for all.”

I drain my bottle and lift the empty at Shilah, who nods his understanding and goes for a fresh one.

“Not sure I could give her what she deserves,” I admit.

“Then tell Wapi the road’s clear for him.”

The thought makes my blood boil and I hit Ouray with an angry glare.

“Like hell. The kid barely knows how to tie his own shoes, let alone look after a woman like Sophia.”

That infuriating smirk is back on his face as he gets to his feet, claps a hand on my shoulder, and leans in close.

“Might as well give in, brother.”

Then he walks to the door, throwing the guys at the other end of the bar a two-fingered salute, and disappears outside.

Arrogant asshole.

I spend the next ten minutes nursing my beer, and staring off into space, before getting up, and without a word head to my room at the back of the clubhouse.

I’ve just come out of the shower and flip on the TV to watch the late-night news when a knock sounds at my door.

“Got a minute?”

Paco is leaning against the doorpost, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Come in.”

He saunters in and plops down in the only chair in my room. I grab a bottle of scotch and two tumblers from my dresser drawer, pour each of us a couple of fingers, hand him one, and take a seat on my bed.

“I need your help.”

“With?”

He takes a fortifying sip before he speaks.

“I wanna build a house. Got a parcel of land off Lightner Creek Road I bought ten or so years ago.”

Paco has lived at the clubhouse as long as I’ve been here, most of the single brothers do. It’s not until they find a woman, start a family, that they find their own place and those numbers have grown over the years. I always took Paco to be like me, destined for the single life, and I’ve never once heard him mention land, so this comes as a bit of a surprise.

“That Habitat for Humanity build got me thinking maybe I could do it myself. With some help,” he adds.

“No shit, huh? You got a woman you’re keeping to yourself?”

“Why does everything have to be about a woman? Is it against the law for a guy to have a place of his own?”

I lift my hands defensively at his spirited response.

“Whoa, brother. Just asking, that’s all. What kinda house are you looking to build?”

By the time he walks out of my room it’s close to two in the morning, my bottle of scotch is almost empty, I have a rudimentary idea of what Paco wants, and I don’t have a single doubt he has a woman in mind.

No man I know cares about spare bedrooms, soaking tubs, or walk-in closets.

CHAPTER 3

Sophia

“REAGAN HAS A boyfriend.”

I almost choke on my granola.

“A little young, don’t you think? She’s only eleven,” I remind my sister.

Bianca usually calls early Sunday morning when John and her girls are still in bed. It’s the only chance she gets for some privacy and both of us have always been early risers. Even though we haven’t always been as close as we are now.

Just two years apart—Bianca is older at thirty-seven—we weren’t exactly friends in our teenage years. We hung with different crowds and had different interests. It wasn’t until I was in college and she got married to John that we started getting along. It only took both of us moving in different directions: me to Denver and Bianca to Eugene, Oregon.

Our parents still live in Arizona where we grew up, but even our baby brother moved over state lines first chance he got, shattering their lifelong dream of a family commune. That’s why we all scattered; Mom and Dad are remnants of the sixties and seventies and don’t believe in personal space or boundaries of any kind. They don’t see the need for them, which made for an awkward adolescence.

“Mom says I should embrace the fact Reagan is becoming a woman,” Bianca shares with appropriate disgust in her voice. “Yesterday I had to break up a fight between her and Avery over crayons for crying out loud. A woman?”

Bianca’s disgusted snort makes me laugh.

“Who’s the boy?”

“A kid in her class. Connor. Cute boy, super shy, and about ten inches shorter than she is. They hold hands on the bus.”

“Aww, that’s kind of cute.”

“Yes, except, on Friday another boy on the bus was bullying Connor, and Reagan felt it necessary to jump in.”

“And that’s bad?”

“It is when the principal calls me because my daughter swung at a boy two years older and broke his nose.”

“No! For real?”

I try to keep the grin out of my voice because