“What is it I don’t know? Are the cops corrupt or something?” I ask.
Smith gives a dark laugh. “Aren’t all cops?”
I blink. “Wow, that’s bitter.”
“You gotta forgive him,” Jax says smoothly. “We’ve had some shitty run-ins with the local fuzz. They don’t exactly…like us.”
“And since you’re associated with our family,” Asher continues, “they’ll probably give you shit for it.”
Smith gives them both a heated stare, then turns to me. “Aubrey, we can go to the cops if you want. It’s your choice.”
I stand there, emotions roiling in me. Part of me wants to go to the police and try, because I feel like that’s the responsible thing I should do as a citizen. And Smith will go with me even though he’s clearly uncomfortable with it. “Are they mad at you because of things you’ve done as kids?” I ask. It seems like this is something important to know, given the way they’re reacting.
Smith takes my hand and leads me into the office, closing the door behind him. We sit on the beat-up couch in the corner of the room. “Look. Outlaws is having…problems. We’re a rough bar with a bad clientele, and not only that, we’re not making enough money to sustain our business for much longer. The police are trying to strong-arm us into closing, and people are coming in attempting to buy the bar. Probably to knock it down.” He’s even-toned as he tells me all of this.
But I remember our talks about his dad. How much he misses the man. This bar is a connection to his father. Of course he wants to keep it.
My heart bleeds for Smith’s struggle. He has to feel like the world is against him, given all the shit he’s going through. Yet here he is, trying to help me, putting himself in a situation to get harassed by the very people who are supposed to protect us.
I reach over and cup his face with both hands, drawing him to me and kissing him. I want to help this man any way I can. I want him to know what it feels like to be supported. He’s spent so long being the backbone of his family. He needs someone to nurture him, too.
Smith’s mouth opens and I tentatively slip my tongue inside. He groans, and the kiss deepens when he tilts his head, takes control. His hands reach down to my hips and he tugs me onto his lap.
I can feel him already starting to get hard. God, can I ever get enough of this man? He makes me feel everything so vividly. Not just in bed, but outside of it. My pulse throbs in my body, and I feel my skin growing hot.
We kiss for what feels like forever, our bodies pressed hard together, our hands roaming each other, just pouring everything out. Everything I’m feeling is bubbling right to the surface, and I want to drop my final walls and tell him how much he means to me. How I’m falling in love with him, despite my efforts to keep my heart protected.
I wasn’t planning for this to happen, but it’s here. I can’t fight it, pretend this isn’t what is happening to me.
When he pulls away, panting, I take a moment to breathe and collect myself. This isn’t the time to be spilling the beans on my feelings, I know. But God, I want to, if only to get this gigantic feeling out of me and out there. Some kind of weird self-torture, I guess. I don’t have a clue how he’d respond.
Smith’s eyes are dark and hooded. “Damn if kissing you doesn’t make me forget just about everything.”
“Well, don’t forget how to pour beer,” I tell him sassily, trying to get myself back under control. “We’re going to save your bar. No one is going to buy Outlaws. We’ll keep it in business, in Beckett hands, and help it thrive.”
“Ah, so here’s where you pull out your checkbook and leave a massive donation to the cause,” he retorts in a dry tone.
“No, smartass. Here’s where we brainstorm ideas to keep the business afloat until we can turn things around. Get you a better clientele. Freshen things up. Not make this place feel so…”
Smith quirks a brow, waiting to hear what I’m going to say.
“So…in need of a makeover,” I finish as gently as I can.
He gives a chuckle, and his face lightens. “You’re upbeat, I’ll give you that. It’s surprising in the face of everything you’re dealing with right now.”
“Easier to look at what’s on your plate than on mine,” I point out. “I have no idea what to do about my situation.” My lightness dampens a bit. Fucking Roger. Why can’t he just let me go?
I know why. It’s because I was in his control, and controlling people hate losing that. Not to mention me leaving injured his pride. Roger is pissed at me.
“Will you trust me to deal with your situation?” Smith asks me. There’s a weight in his eyes as he stares at me. I can tell there’s a lot more involved in this question. He’s asking me to trust his way of dealing with things. To trust that he isn’t like Roger, that he won’t treat me that way.