There it was, a glimpse of the Dani I’d met before, the one from the diner. “Yeah, you sure are.” I said it sarcastically, but she really was in a completely different class than I was.
“Actually, I really didn’t fit in at boarding school,” she said. “My father has money, but it’s not the same, you know? People like that, the kids from boarding school? They don’t really mix with people like me. My dad cleans up messes for people like them. No matter how much money I had, I’d never be in that class. That’s just a fact of life.” Dani looked up at me, her expression sad. “I didn’t fit in there. I thought I could get away from all that at Stanford. I was wrong, I guess.”
I felt a pang of empathy for her. It couldn’t have been easy for her, especially after her mother died. She fidgeted in her seat, and it was obvious she had something to say. “That stuff you said last night, the stuff about my father? I know he’s not a good guy. I’m not naive.”
“I don’t think you’re naive.” I wasn’t sure what I thought of her at this point.
“I’ve been out of the house since my mother was killed, since I was fourteen. I don’t know what my father is doing anymore, not really. What you said about his smuggling, do you really believe that?”
I shrugged. “I have no way of knowing for sure.” Why couldn't I bring myself to tell her that I had gotten angry and said it to hurt her?
“Yet you’re fine working with him.”
“I didn’t say that. Not at all. But the club voted on it. Whether I like it or not, it’s what the club decided.”
She didn’t say anything after that.
The next couple of weeks passed slowly. I always thought of this place as my little time warp. There was never any rush up here. Things always just seemed to drift along and I soaked in every ounce of the freshness of this place as if I could somehow bank it and withdraw it when I was back in the soul-sucking city. I wished I could bring a little of this place with me. I needed it to keep myself alive, to keep my soul alive - what was what was left of my soul anyway.
I worked the land around the cabin, the brush and the overgrowth getting more and more unruly, not dead like all the grass in the city during summer. Here it was only growing out of control, fueled by the shade of the trees and the relative coolness that went with the elevation. I cleared brush, repaired gutters, immersed myself in the physical labor I loved to do. It was similar to riding my bike-a way to get lost in something else. I’d read about meditation, but it wasn’t my thing. It’s hard to meditate when you’re in a motorcycle clubhouse all the time, but I figured riding and chopping wood were about as close to meditation as I’d ever get.
We developed this weird relationship, Dani and I. We avoided each other a lot of the time, me working outside and her inside the house or sitting down by the lake reading. We barely said anything to each other, even in passing, like we’d reached this unspoken agreement to just co-exist. She seemed a lot calmer now, and I-shit, I didn’t care if she was Guillermo’s daughter or not, I was dealing with some seriously pent-up frustration. Being around this girl was infuriating, for so many reasons. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought she’d been taunting me the past few days, wearing shorts that progressively got shorter and showed off her long legs, brushing up against me as she passed. Nothing crazy. She wasn’t throwing herself at me or anything. But still, it made me wonder.
Working the land out here, with Dani nearby, made it easy to forget all the shit going on. It was almost like we were out here on an extended vacation or something, a regular couple spending time together. Not the daughter of a crime boss and the hired gun from the motorcycle club hiding from someone trying to kill her. I needed to remind myself of that fact every time my cock started doing my thinking for me. My dick needed a reminder that Dani’s father was Guillermo Arias, and that anything with her would get us both killed.
I’d been out here chopping wood for a good thirty minutes, sweating out all my pent up sexual frustration and anger at this whole situation, trying to let go of things I couldn’t control with the club. What I wanted to do was ditch this whole thing - ditch Dani - and go back to the club. It was killing me not to be in the thick of things. I’d called Mad Dog but got nothing. They were working on it.
The ache in my arms and my back jolted me to the present. It was a good ache, the kind that said I’d had a productive day.