Growing up with an absentee father never prepared her for the dysfunctional family journey she finds herself living.
Heather Jones is settling in Montana as if her dad had never left her, the club had always been her family, and the women at Pine Bar and Grill were her life-long friends. Meeting Rod, the sexiest biker of Ronacks, distracts her in the most delicious way from the heartache she knows is coming. Because eventually, everyone she loves always ends up leaving her.
Only he can keep her alive.
As vice president of Ronacks Motorcycle Club, Rod wanted Heather the moment her fist hit his mouth. He should've known better than to believe the danger spinning around him wouldn't touch her. All the weapons, high security, and even his club can't protect Heather against the storm.
His heart drummed inside of him, and he moistened his lips. Taken aback, he'd never had anyone ask him that question and feel like they honestly wanted to know the answer.
He nodded. "I'm good. A little stiff and sore but good."
Heather shook her head and leaned closer to the table, reaching for his hand. He crossed his arms.
"Don't be like that," she whispered. "I care about you."
Her eyes widened. "Don't care?"
"Shit is going on, Heather. You look out for yourself and stay away from me." His rapid heartbeat made his chest hurt, and he forced a deeper breath inside of him. "I shouldn't have played around with you. You're a good woman."
"And, what? You're a bad man?" Heather smirked. "Give that story to someone else. Whatever is going on with you has everything to do with you being attacked. It's not about how I enjoy your company, and you've shown me you're interested."
"Like I said, you're a good—"
"I am." She stood from the table, stepped toward him, and bent down. "You're also good. That doesn't mean I'll let you act like an asshole toward me. Go home, get some rest, and for God's sake, take care of yourself."
She kissed the top of his head, shocking him. All he could do was sit there and watch her walk up to the group of women across the room and join their conversation. She'd spoken words as if ordering him around and yet delivered them softly he could still feel the vibration of warmth she'd left behind in his chest. That feeling had him feeling better than he'd felt since he got his ass handed to him.
Heather leaned forward. Her hard, round ass pressed tight against her jeans. He stretched his leg out, leaned back in the chair, and wondered if Heather was aware of him ogling her. She shifted her hips side to side and then straightened, tilting back her head, and drinking from a bottle of beer.
Not from a glass, which Gia preferred.
Not a mixed drink, which Jana consumed.
No, Heather wrapped her slim fingers around the cold bottle and drank as if she enjoyed simply putting her lips on the glass.
Rod brushed the back of his hand across his lips. He'd taken things slow and gotten to know her without putting any demands on her and had enjoyed every fucking minute of frustration.
He hadn't planned a relationship with Heather. It happened the moment she'd stepped forward without stepping back and decked him in the mouth. Her strength surprised the shit out of him. Most people backed away.
Drawn to that strength, he discovered pure softness. It wasn't easy to get behind the layer of safety she carried herself. Short on sharing and hesitant of his intentions, she'd slowly let down her guard until he was afraid of hurting her. Hurting Swiss. Hurting the club.
If he were a good man, he'd have her in his bed every night and keep her to himself because he hated the thought of one of his MC brothers having her. But even Heather could see he was an asshole at heart.
He had to be.
Because he was one.
He shook his head, looked away from the woman who made him forget and stood. It was time to get out of here and go find the person after him. He never once believed the attack was a random hit.
She lives with her family in the Bitterroot Mountains of beautiful Northern Idaho where she enjoys the outdoors, the four seasons, and small-town living.