Royally Twisted (A Royal Sons MC Book 1) Read online

  “Penny for your thoughts,” Tymber’s deep voice interrupted her internal struggle.

  Ivy did a mental shake. “I was thinking how ironic this is.” Which was true. She’d gone to the center looking for a...a what, she wasn’t sure. Absolution, solace, a place to vent? Maybe a little of all three, only to chicken out and come face-to-face with a man who made every inch of her wake up and take notice.

  He didn’t respond as they reached the coffeeshop. The heavenly aroma of fresh brewed beans had her inhaling deeply. “Lord, I love that smell. If I could I’d have it bottled up in a perfume.”

  Tymber’s lips tilted up in a grin, and she just knew what was going to come out of his mouth was going to be dirty. The man didn’t disappoint. “Hm, that would definitely wake a man up. Not that I’d need that to wake up around you.” He wagged his brows.

  She punched his arm playfully. “I get the feeling you don’t need help in that department.” She looked him up and down, admiring the way he filled out the denim jeans. Damn, he really was built.

  Ivy was saved from further comment as they moved to the front counter, placing their orders. Tymber ordered two coffee cake slices, declaring her underfed. Ivy raised her brows, placing her hands on her hips. “Have you the need of glasses, sir?” she questioned him. She was a lot of things, but skinny wasn’t one of them. Curvy and proud of it. However, since Luke’s death she’d lost a few pounds, but not so much she would be considered skinny.

  “I see you perfectly. Every damn inch of you looks perfect to me.” Tymber paid for the coffee and the cakes, smiling at the young girl who blushed as he winked at her. “Booth or table?”

  She looked at the booth with its padded seats, then the table by the window. “Booth please.”

  Once they were seated at the booth, he waited for her to settle in before motioning toward the coffee cake. “Alright, try it.”

  Picking up the fork, she cut a small piece off, bringing it to her mouth. She felt Tymber’s eyes on her the entire time, but she forgot about him as soon as the delicious morsel hit her tongue, moaning her pleasure. “Oh my god, this is amazing.”

  He sat back, a satisfied smile on his too handsome face. “Told you.”

  She finished chewing, then took another bite before responding. “Aren’t you going to try it?”

  They both began eating the little treat until their plates were empty. She sat back, smiling as he scraped his plate. “You have a sweet tooth, Mr. Black,” she announced, pointing her fork toward him.

  Tymber shrugged. “Only when I know its good sweets.”

  There was no way she could miss his double entendre, or maybe she was reading too much into his words. Hell, maybe it was her who was the horny one, wanting him while he was being the polite guy.

  “So, what do you do? I mean for a living that is?” Ivy asked after clearing her throat. Jesus, she sounded like a damn teenager on her first date instead of a grown ass woman who lived a crazy life.

  The man across from her picked up his coffee cup, took a sip, then sat it back down. “I own a tattoo shop with a couple buddies here in town.”

  His words had her sitting up taller. Sure, he looked like a, well a lumberjack with the flannel and jeans, but a tattoo artist was something she wouldn’t have guessed. “Oh, which one?” Their city was pretty big, nothing like Los Angeles to the south of them, but Santa Clarita had over two hundred thousand people. She chose the center on the opposite side of town for a reason, the main one being that nobody who ran in her circles would be around, she’d hoped.

  “Twisted Ink. It’s right off the highway.” Pride suffused his tone.

  Her heart beat against her chest. She’d heard of his shop. A few of the MC brothers had gotten inked there. Hell, she’d almost gone there herself, only circumstances kept her from going the last time. “That’s pretty cool. How long you been doing that?” Just because he tattooed members of the MC didn’t mean he would be friendly with them. She’d been around them her entire life and would’ve seen him if he’d been a prospect or a hang around. No, Tymber hadn’t been at any of the club parties or at the clubhouse. Of course, with his intensity, she could see him fitting in just fine with the Royal Sons, no problem. Fuck, she didn’t need another MC member in her life.

  “What’s wrong?” He reached across the table, taking the coffee cup out of her hands.

  Ivy hadn’t realized she’d picked up the hot liquid or noticed her shaking hands. “Nothing, I just realized how late it was. I should be going.” She really didn’t want to go. Something about the man sitting so calmly, like a solid tree, made her want to lean on him. She knew that was dangerous territory, because she’d learned not to rely on anyone but herself. To rely on anyone else would only lead to heartache and a letdown. No, she would only trust in herself. Men, especially big tough men like Tymber, like the men of the Royal Sons MC, didn’t care about anyone but themselves and their brothers.

  She was shocked at the ease talking with Tymber was. The guys she’d been with before were all about themselves, yet here was this gorgeous stranger wanting to know about her and her life. The only problem, or main problem being she couldn’t tell him too much, or he’d run for the hills.

  For the next hour and a half, two cups of latte and another piece of cake later, Ivy didn’t know if the guy was for real or a figment of her imagination. He listened when she spoke yet didn’t push when she stopped.

  “I don’t know what your past relationships were, but from the look on your face, I figure you must’ve only been with assholes. Ivy, there ain’t a man or woman alive who should make you feel as though you were worthless.” His gaze ensnared her almost the same as the hand he placed over hers. She wondered if tattoos on his hands, the intricate designs, were meaningful.

  “How do you know what my past relationships were like?” she asked, her heart racing. No way had he seen or heard of her before today.

  Tymber smiled, not the megawatt, melt the panties off of every woman within his vicinity, but a knowing one that had her pulling her hand back. His words ringing in her ears. He’d change his mind if he knew her past.

  “I really should head out. Thank you for the coffee and cakes, although my ass isn’t going to be thanking you when we can’t wiggle into our favorite pair of jeans,” she joked, hoping her tone rang true.

  “I’ll walk you to your car.” Tymber scooted out of the booth before she could protest.

  “You don’t have to do that. I’ve been on my own for a long time. I’m pretty sure I can make it back to my car just fine.” She looked up into his gorgeous eyes, willing her voice to be strong.

  He nodded. “Just the same, I’ll walk you to it, if you don’t mind.”

  “And if I mind?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “I’ll still do it, only I’ll be the asshole who walked you to your car instead of the nice man you met.”

  She laughed. “I have a feeling you really can be an asshole.”

  The cooler air slapped at them when they walked outside, making her suck in the fresh scent. Silence greeted her words, which gave her a chance to look around the area. A few bikes were parked along the road outside of shops. She didn’t recognize any, but fear skated up her spine.

  Tymber watched her look around the neighborhood, not missing the shiver that shook her petite frame. Something had the gorgeous woman scared. Something that also had her running to a suicide help meeting. He vowed he’d find out more. There was a mystique to Ivy that called to him on a visceral level. A connection he’d never felt for any other woman, and he’d met a lot of women, but none brought out such a protective side to him that he wanted to wrap her up in his arms and protect her from the world. His sisters would laugh their asses off if they saw him right now. Being the baby with four older females in the family, he’d been brought up to respect the fairer sex. They’d taught him a lot of things. One of his greatest lessons was their body language, and Ivy’s was screaming self-defense. Whoever had hurt her, had her runni
ng, would have to go through him to get to her.

  He saw her glance toward the row of bikes, then saw her shiver again. Shit, was she scared to ride? He and his buddies liked their rides. Although they weren’t affiliated with any of the MCs that were all over California, he was friendly with the club that ran a lot of businesses in Santa Clarita. The president and a few others were clients of his. He took another look at Ivy’s appearance, thinking of the women who’d come into the shop with King and Duke and the others. Those women appeared in a lot less clothing than Ivy, but that didn’t mean Ivy wasn’t an old lady of a biker, or a wannabe. Hell, he fucking hoped she wasn’t either of those, because he sure as shit didn’t want to get into it with the Royal Sons.

  They walked back toward the center, her eyes darting around them as if she waited for someone to jump out at them. Tymber couldn’t stand it. By the time they rounded the corner, his nerves were frayed, or maybe that was his control. Either way, he came to a stop, pulling Ivy with him. “What the fuck has you so damn scared? What sent you to a suicide meeting only to chicken out, Ivy?” he asked, his voice more of a growl than he wanted.

  Her bright green eyes widened. She darted a look around, her tongue coming out to moisten her lips. “I...I don’t know what you’re talking about. I wasn’t going to a...a suicide meeting. I was lost.” She looked down when she said the last.

  Tymber gave her a little shake. “Dammit, don’t lie. This is fucking serious.”

  She jerked as if he’d hit her. “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t know what is and what isn’t serious? Let me tell you what’s serious, Tymber.” She poked him in the chest. “Walking into your apartment to find your best friend arguing with their boyfriend. Seeing the desolation on his face, the utter defeat stamped on every feature, and then watch as he locked himself in the bathroom. Imagine hearing him crying, telling you he loves you but that he can’t do it anymore. Have you ever heard the sound of a gun cocking, the way it echoes in a small space? I have. It’s a sound I hear night after night, along with the last words he said before a single shot rang out,” she sobbed.

  He pulled her into his chest, holding her shaking body against his, absorbing her words. What the fuck? Her best friend was a dude who’d killed himself over a breakup or some shit. “I’m sorry, Ivy. So damn sorry.” Shit, nobody deserved to witness something like that.

  Her tears soaked his shirt while she cried. Tymber kept one hand on the back of her head, the other he ran up and down her back, murmuring words he couldn’t recall if asked. How long they stood on the street like that he had no clue. Finally, she sniffled, the sound almost cute. “I got your shirt all wet,” she mumbled.

  He almost made a sexual reference but stopped himself. “That’s alright, it washes.”

  “That was hard, wasn’t it?” she questioned, leaning back slightly to meet his eyes.

  Tymber raised a brow. “What was?”

  Ivy wiped the tears away. Her chest rose and fell with her deep inhale. “I could see the wheels turning in your mind. You normally would’ve made a sexual quip right then but didn’t want to be an asshole.”

  He chuckled at her astuteness. “Do I get points for not saying anything?”

  She tried to step back, but his hold prevented her from moving too far. “You get points for a lot, one being the restraint you showed then.”

  “I’m sorry about your friend,” he said, his heart aching for her loss.

  “He was my best friend since kindergarten when he beat up a boy for pulling my pigtails.” She smiled at the memory.

  If he’d been in class with Ivy back then, he’d have done the same. “That’s the mark of a good best friend for sure.”

  “Luke claims I became his best friend when I punched Sally, after she dumped him in junior high because he found out she only wanted to get closer to his brothers.”

  An image of a younger version of Ivy beating another girl made him smile. “I’d have paid to see that.” And he would. The thought of this sassy woman knocking the shit out of another would be hot as hell in his mind.

  “I fell in love with him that same year when he beat my stepdad up after he tried to...well, anyway, that was when we became a couple.” Her voice cracked.

  His mind came to a halt. He wasn’t following, or he was missing vital parts to the story. “Ivy, I’m not on the same page. Who are we discussing?”

  Her green eyes were shiny with her tears. “Luke. My best friend. My first love. He’s...or rather he was gay. We figured it out in high school, but I still loved him, and he still loved me. Our relationship wasn’t like, that. I protected him, and he protected me. Only I didn’t protect him in the end. I should’ve known. I should’ve been there. If only I’d have—” she sobbed.

  Tymber gripped the back of her hair, tipping her face up to his so she had to see him when he spoke. “Ivy, I don’t know who Luke was. I don’t know why he did what he did. What I do know is this. He pulled that trigger, not you. You have survivors’ guilt, which is very common I’m told. People say that when someone commits suicide life goes on. What they don’t understand is that life is forever changed for those left behind. Many times, suicide is a permanent solution for a temporary problem. I’m not saying that was your friend’s issue. Hell, I know nothing of your life or his, but what I do know is that it wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t the boyfriend’s fault either.”

  She shook her head. “You don’t understand.”

  Staring up at Tymber, she soaked in his words, wishing they were true, wishing Luke’s family agreed. God, she wished she believed them to be true. What she knew for a fact, and without a shadow of a doubt, was her life was forever changed and not for the better. Luke had been more than just her friend, they were family. His family had been her family. They’d allowed her to be a part of them only because of him. Now that he was dead, they blamed her. They thought Darian was her boyfriend and that Luke had offed himself because he couldn’t stand life without her in it. God, it was so fucked up. “I really wish I could believe that was true. I wish everyone else thought the same way, too.”

  The feel of his hand gripping her hair, sent a tingle of awareness through her body, reminding her she was still alive, that she still had needs. It had been too damn long since she’d thought of herself as a sexual being. Hell, with her playing the part of Luke’s beard, she couldn’t just go out and find a guy to scratch the itch. Truth be told, she’d not actually had a boyfriend other than Luke, and well, that hadn’t worked out. “I should go,” she whispered, but didn’t step away.

  His grip didn’t ease. “Can I get your number?” he asked.

  His words were an invitation. She knew it, and he did too. She licked her lips. For one moment in time, she wanted to forget, wanted to escape reality and pretend all was right in her world. Tymber Black looked like the type of man who could help her do just that. “Where are you going?” she asked him instead.

  Tymber looked up and down the block. “Home, to my place.”

  “If I give you my number, are you going to call me if I don’t go home with you now?”

  Ivy was aware she was taking a huge leap of faith. He was a virtual stranger. Hell, nobody even knew where she was or would even care, but she tossed her proverbial last fuck in the air and nodded. “Want some company?”

  He gave a slight tug to her hair, reminding her he had control. “You sure?”

  Her mouth had gone dry, but she nodded. “Very,” she agreed.

  “Want to ride with me?” He pointed toward his bike.

  She swallowed, noticing his ride. Just because he rode a bike didn’t mean he was part of an MC. She’d never seen him around the Royal clubhouse or around any of the guys. “I’ll follow you.” Her own bike was parked in the garage behind her apartment.

  “Where’s your car?”

  Ivy pointed to where her 1974 orange Ford Bronco sat. “Right there.”

  “Dayum, girl. That’s a sweet ride. Is it a six speed?” he asked, wal
king over to peer inside.

  “Yeah, but it’s been modified. I’ve pretty much replaced everything under the hood, so it’s all brand new, right down to the six point roll cage.”

  Tymber whistled. “You did the work?”

  Ivy rolled her eyes. Men couldn’t wrap their head around a female who liked to work on cars and trucks. She was that girl. The one who could and would take an engine apart and put it back together even better than it had been. Case in point, her Bronco. She and Luke had found it sitting in a junk yard up in Sacramento years ago. Slowly, but surely, she’d rebuilt and replaced everything until she had what sat on the road today. The fact she and Luke would never be putting anything back together almost brought her to a crying mess, again. “I had help,” was all she said.

  His phone ringing had him stiffening. “I need to take this.”

  She stared as he pulled the little phone out, his jeans hugging him in all the right places. No matter how hard she tried, tearing her eyes away from his back was near impossible. What kind of person does that make her, drooling over a man, thinking of going home with said man she’d met at a crisis center? For all she knew, he too was a suicide survivor. Would being with her cause him more grief?

  “Carly, calm the fuck down. I’m sure it’s fine. Yeah, I’ll be right there.” Tymber ran his hand through his hair, turning to look at her over his shoulder. His heated stare conveying more than words could.

  Was this the universe’s way to tell her she was crazy to go back to his place, with a man she didn’t know? Her mind caught up to what he’d said or rather didn’t say. She was sure they’d discussed significant others, but here he was promising some faceless woman named Carly he’d be right there. The flex and bunch of Tymber’s muscular ass when he pushed the cellphone back into his back pocket was truly enough for most red-blooded women to lose their mind. “I lost my mind years ago, no reason to question its lack of existence now, Ivy Girl,” she told herself. If he had a girlfriend, or whatever, she’d find out and walk away now, rather than later after she’d made another mistake.