Bash (Diablo Disciples MC #6)

SIX

Charlotte

A plume of smoke drifted from Bash’s lips as he asked. “How is the young kid? Did he live?”

“Oh, Samuel. Yes, he’s on the fourth floor recovering. I called earlier to check how he was doing and all his vitals were improving.”

“He was lucky you drove by.” She blushed when he complimented her.

“You helped me, too.”

“I only followed orders. Denver would have had his shit handled. You know he’s a medic?”

Lottie scowled before she could mask the emotion. “Yes, his wife told me he had a medical background.” The less said about Denver, the better. As far as she knew, the whole Diablos bikers risked her job, including the man beside her. Denver was the one who demanded medical equipment, so he was more responsible than the others.

As she pushed a crumb of the custard pastry into her mouth and savored the sweetness on her tongue, she watched as Bash’s eyebrow winged up high. Damn, he was staring at her with curiosity, like he noticed how she cringed when his buddy was brought up.

Sure enough, he asked. “What’s with the face, darling? Do you have something against Denver?”

“Should I?”

He half smiled. “I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking. Was he a shitty patient?”

Weren’t all men big babies when they were sick or hurt?

“Casey kept him in line for the duration he was with us.” She quickly changed the subject. “What is it you do for your MC, Bash? I assume you work there full-time?”

People assumed an MC was for men to play with motorcycles and hook up with many women. Probably, the latter was all true, but from what she gleaned from overheard conversations during their hospital pilgrimage, it sounded like they had a lot of fingers in different business pies.

“Technically, I run the secretarial side of the club.”

“You take notes and sit on the boss’s lap?” she stuck her tongue into the side of her cheek as Bash chuckled, and toked on his cigarette.

“You’re not the first to think so.”

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist. So what does the club secretary do? If I’m allowed to ask.”

“You can ask me anything, Charlotte.” Her name rolled off his tongue and put hectic butterflies through her stomach lining. To stifle their clog dancing, she swallowed the last bite of pastry before she’d properly chewed it.

“I primarily keep records of everything. Transactions, administration. If anyone wants a meeting with Axel, they go through me first. I keep a database of all members, past and present. Think of me as an unofficial government within the club walls. Everything there is to know about a member, I know it.”

“So, if I sent a letter, you’d be the one opening it?”

“Yes.” He half smiled. “I also work closely with the other club officers, ensuring they have everything they need to make their jobs run smoothly.”

“Wow,” she said, impressed.

“And in my downtime, I throw my hand in at the mechanical shop.”

“You’re a jack of all trades, hm?”

“I don’t save lives. Don’t tell anyone, but the sight of blood isn’t my favorite thing.”

Lottie gasped, searching for any sign that he might be lying, but Bash seemed completely honest. “This morning must have been torture for you then. Samuel’s artery bled a lot.”

“I mostly focused on your face,” He admitted, and Lottie’s chest tightened weirdly. She’d seen people fainting all the time because of their aversion to seeing blood, so she felt a prickle of gratitude for how Bash had held it together, so they could help the boy.

“Tell me more about your job.” She asked as the daytime sun beat down on the top of her head. She usually grabbed a fast lunch in the cafeteria if she hadn’t brought a boxed lunch. But sitting outside was nicer.

“Well,” he started, a glint in his eye as he smoked the last of his cigarette and then stomped it out underneath his leather-soled boot. To Lottie’s surprise, Bash picked up the cigarette butt and tossed it into the nearby trash can. “Besides sitting on Axel’s lap.”

She burst into laughter. “It was a fair assumption. That’s what happens in all Wall Street movies.”

Bash winked and went on. “I keep abreast of all the data for our businesses. If he might need it, I’m also Axel’s advisor.”

“Do all the bikers have roles or work outside the MC?”

“Yeah, darling. Most of us have jobs and roles within the MC, especially those on the council, or the place would fall apart.”

“Even the mean-looking one?”

It was Bash’s turn to laugh. Though there was at least an entire space between them, his manspreading made her feel like their bodies were almost touching, as he turned his head to look at her.

“How do I know you’re talking about Ruin? Even he has a club title. He didn’t make a good patient, huh? If he’s left a lasting impression as the mean-looking one.”

“To be fair to Ruin, he was in a coma for a long time, so he made the ideal patient. No complaining about the food or calling on us to change the TV channel at all hours.”

“Now it’s my turn to ask a question.”

“Go for it. I hope it’s not my favorite color.”

He smirked, and from the glint under his half-mast eyelids, Lottie braced for him to confront the elephant in the room, and ask why she’d turned him down for a date.

“What time is your lunch break tomorrow?”

Oh. That was not what she was expecting. Her brain quickly caught up and told him. That’s when Bash stood, took the empty container from her hands, and tossed it into the trash can.

“Meet me here again, Charlotte.”

Look, she was not expert in these things — the emotional mechanics between men and women — but that sounded more like a command than a request and it shivered her timbers right down to her curling toes. Lottie was left dry-mouthed before she dashed the tip of her tongue over her lips to give them some lubrication.

The way he stared in a concentrated way put a hole straight through her heart, because she knew that look wasn’t platonic. Not in the least.

One part of her brain was up for it, willing to follow wherever that deep voice told her to go. Bash felt safe and warm, what she could imagine a decent boyfriend would be like. But the logical side wouldn’t let her form any friendship with this man, because if she got in deep, all kinds of trouble would ensue. And she just wasn’t about that life.

If she wanted adrenaline junkie pursuits and gangbangers at her door, she would have joined her sister with the Riot Brothers. They’d tried often enough over the years to get her to be friendly. Especially that creep her sister was dating.

“I…”

“Charlotte, it’s only a bite of lunch and exchanging a conversation. Don’t look so worried, darling.”

When he put it like that.

And then it occurred to her that maybe Bash had a girlfriend now. Perhaps he was heavily dating and didn’t look at her that way anymore. A sudden onset of turmoil mixed with trepidation made her swallow and tilt her head back to look at him looming over her, so tall and imposing. The guy was built like a high-rise building, all lean inches encased in his biker wear. And now she wondered if he wanted to have lunch with her again because he’d formed a trauma bond with her, because of today’s events. That sounded more plausible, and her shoulders relaxed.

“Okay, but if you can’t make it, don’t worry about it.”

Bash only smiled and walked her toward the electronic doors, though she insisted he didn’t have to. She remained there dumbfounded while watching him stride to his parked bike, wondering what had happened for the past few minutes.

And the amazing thing was, he showed up the following day. Even when Lottie stewed over what it might mean, or if she should even turn up. But with her lunch bag in her hand, she made her way outside to that same bench, and the air locked in her throat, seeing Bash standing like a centurion near the double doors.

He smiled in greeting, his eyes darkened around the edges, and Lottie felt a flutter in her stomach. No doubt it was hunger. It couldn’t be connected to emotions. That wasn’t how she worked. Lottie was analytical and not powered by feelings, yet seeing that large biker waiting for her with a smile in his hooded eyes made her react solely to feelings.

“Hey, you made it.” she forced out and joined him in step.

“It wasn’t me who was in danger of not showing, Charlotte.” He teased. “I thought I might have to track you down.”

“Would you have done that?” she asked, wide-eyed, as she plopped down on the bench and took the coffee cup Bash held out to her.

“Yes.” Unrepentant.

“Here, fill your unfiltered mouth with this.” She said, opening the lunch bag; she brought out a wrapped sandwich she’d made for Bash. He seemed surprised, but took a thick beef and mustard triangle. She wasn’t hungry suddenly as she watched his straight white teeth sink into the thick-cut white bread, so she passed him the second when he finished his sandwich.

“You’re not eating?” he frowned while she sipped the coffee, savoring the perfect taste of caffeine.

“I had two protein bars on my break earlier. Go ahead, eat it. It’ll only get tossed out if you don’t. You don’t want to hurt my culinary talents, do you?”

Then, they fell into an easy conversation. The lunch break went by in a flash. Once again, Bash walked her to the door and told her he’d see her tomorrow. Before she could protest, he’d strode off.

She sighed, watching his broad back.

Did bikers ever listen?

But she knew he did because he asked questions about her life, seemingly genuinely interested.

She couldn’t work the guy out.

Why would he want to sit in a hospital entryway eating lunch with her, if he knew she wouldn’t date him?

Sure, Lottie felt some chemistry toward the man, but it wouldn’t last, so there was no point in losing her head over it.

Maybe they could be friends after all.

For the next five days, she sat outside in the blistering heat and had eclectic conversations with Bash while they each brought the other food and drinks to share. He won yesterday by bringing shortbread. She aced it today when he grinned at the sight of the buttered English cheese scones they’d discussed. So what if she stayed up late reading recipes and burning two batches before nailing the third one.

It was a friendly thing to do.

When she learned why he was called Bash, she giggled for a full minute, slapping her knee to calm down.

“Does anyone ever call you Ben?” his government name was Ben Laurent, totally hot. But she kept that tidbit to herself.

“Not in a long time,” he gruffed, licking a scone crumb from the corner of his lip, and Lottie nearly moaned.

Whoa , what the hell was that? She was not turned on while watching the guy eating!

On a base level, she could understand an attraction (regular women were attracted to him; they stared at him often enough as they walked by) His commanding voice and work-roughened hands checked the bad boy persona.

She was enjoying Bash’s company.

She didn’t think he was like Nora’s boyfriend, but ignorance was bliss for now, while only two friends were meeting for innocent lunchtime chats.

On the seventh day, they planned nothing, but Lottie still waited outside. But Bash never showed up.

In only a short week, Lottie had gotten used to seeing Bash, listening to his stories or his laughter when she told him hilarious tales about her cat. God, she’d talked about Prince like he was her child. It’s no surprise he became bored. Any man would.

Swallowing her disappointment, she returned to work. She could handle those problems easily, no sweat.

Unlike dealing with a man and her squirrely, newly formed sexual feelings for him.