Page 114 of Lead Me On
Jane pulled her hand away, afraid that she’d start to pet him and things would get out of control. “I’ll be in touch. Soon.”
“Okay.”
She didn’t want to go, but if she stayed, she’d be hypnotized by his blue eyes and wide smiles. She took a step. Then another.
“Jane?” he called when she was only one table away.
She turned back.
“I’ve got a degree in geology, so you can use me for my educational achievements anytime.”
“What?”
“Do you think they hand out dynamite to any firebug with fuse and a prayer?”
“I…”
“Want me to have it tattooed on my other arm? ‘College educated with love and Jane Morgan approved’?”
She gaped at him in utter shock.
“Ha! You’re such a snob. They let guys with tattoos into college, too. I’ll call you later to find out how you’re doing, Miss Jane.” And with a wink, he turned his attention back to his food.
Jane stood there in the middle of the restaurant, watching him eat bacon. When she finally recovered enough to think, she glanced around. Sure enough, the people at the nearby tables were staring at her, most of them with knowing smiles. She looked back to Chase sitting there, muscles bulging in his T-shirt, black tattoos glowing dark against his skin, looking like a damned punk-rock criminal.
Then she caught the smiling eye of a woman at the next table, and Jane’s fear seemed like a pitiful thing. Something easily ignored. She found herself suddenly smiling back.
That man—that big, gorgeous, scary-looking man—would be Jane’s if she had the courage to claim him. He couldbelongto her. And it had nothing to do with his degree. None of these people knew about that, but Jane felt proud all the same.
As she walked out, the tiny little kernel of bravery she’d hidden beneath layers of fear began to burn and grow. If she wanted a chance to lick that man’s tattoo again, she was going to have to find a way to resuscitate her courage completely. She was going to have to set aside decades of guilt and shame and anxiety and learn to live.
It seemed an insurmountable task, but Billy Chase’s skull might be the only motivation in the world strong enough to help her overcome her terror. Maybe there was hope for her after all.
* * *
TWENTY-FOUR HOURS AFTERher first visit to her mom’s house, Jane was back on her parents’ couch. She’d come to face her demons, but the battle was less than dramatic. Her mom was out getting groceries and Mac was working, so Jane sat alone on the couch, clutching the photo album so hard that her knuckles began to ache. The sound of revving power tools echoed through the open window from the direction of Mac’s shop. A motorcycle roared past the house before it slowed and turned into the shop drive.
All familiar sounds.
For a while after she’d stopped sleeping around, Jane hadn’t been able to go to the shop to see Mac. Too many times his customer would be some biker she’d hooked up with at one of the bars. Too many times she’d had to hurry out and hope Mac hadn’t noticed the knowing gleam in the man’s eyes.
When she thought about it now, she couldn’t quite believe she’d escaped that life so safely. She’d gotten a second chance, and she’d clutched at it with desperation.
Jane looked back to the picture she’d been staring at for the past fifteen minutes. Most of the photos were posed family shots, but this one had been taken when she wasn’t paying attention. Instead of staring boldly at the camera with a smirk or a pout, she was sitting on the hood of Mac’s old truck, looking into the distance. Her knees were tucked up to her chest, her arms wrapped around her legs. Without the camouflage of a defiant glare, she looked very young. And sad. And lost. She looked like a girl grown men should have gone to jail for touching.
She traced a finger around the edge of the photo. Chase was right. She’d been a kid. And if she saw this young girl hanging around Ryders today, Jane would feel sorry for her. She’d think this was a girl who needed help, not a girl who could never be forgiven.
If I forgive my mother, I’ll have to forgive myself.
The motorcycle started again, a roar that would’ve carried through the window even if it hadn’t been open.
Jane could hang out in Mac’s shop with him now if she wanted to. No one would recognize her even if they knew about Dynasty’s new name. But it was a catch-22. If she wanted to remain separated from her past, she couldn’t hang out with her stepfather. She couldn’t be Mac’s daughter. She couldn’t be Jessie’s sister. She couldn’t be herself or she had to be Dynasty, too.
The hinges of the front door squealed. “Jane?” her mom called.
“I’m in here!”
“Mac said you were waiting for me.” She walked in with two shopping bags clutched in each hand.
