Chapter 9:

"Shit!"

Bryn had heard Juice yell in her living room from the back deck of her house. She rushed to the living room to find him holding his hand to his bleeding eyebrow. Bryn was quick to grab a kitchen towel and press it into the wound where Juice was lying on the floor. "You're supposed to drill into the wall, not your face," she smirked as the bleeding slowed beneath her hand. "How the hell did you manage to put a gash on your eyebrow?" Her face was a mixture of concern and amusement.

"I was making the hole to pull the last wire through. My foot slipped out from under me and your TV stand caught me in the face on my way down. The edge of that thing is shard as shit!" Juice grimaced as Bryn removed the towel from his face.

Bryn examined the wound. "I think I can glue it shut." She stood from the floor, "Give me a second to get the glue and first aid shit."

Juice just nodded as Bryn padded through the house gathering what she needed. She soon returned and assisted the oddly smiling man to her couch before sitting on his leg to get the best angle of his wound. Juice placed his hand at her waist to steady her as she shifted to straddle him for a more comfortable position.

Bryn set to work cleaning his wound. "Why the hell are you smiling?" She asked, truly confused by his demeanor.

Juice chuckled, "If I'd known it only took a minor injury to get you this close to me, I would have fucked myself up sooner."

Bryn smiled and shook her head before she leaned over his torso to blow on the drying glue. When she began to pull back, she noticed the look in Juice's eyes—she knew that one all too well. She'd felt something similar beneath the hands of his 'brother' only days before.

Juice slid his hand against the side of her face, running to the back of her neck before bringing her face to his. Juice meets her lips with his in a passionate kiss. Bryn kisses him back, but she can't help but compare the kiss to Happy's. Juice certainly knew how to kiss a woman—she could imagine any other woman becoming weak in the knees and folding beneath his touch. His lips were firm, but silky. But in the back of her mind, Bryn couldn't help but feel that Juice just wasn't Happy. That idea scared her.

Bryn pulled away from Juice. She couldn't find the words, but he could see it in her eyes. Rubbing the back of his neck, Juice looked around the room as he spoke, "Shit. I made it weird, didn't I?"

Bryn felt bad. She had kissed him back—given him a semblance of hope before pulling it away. "No. You were perfect. But I'm kind of stuck on someone." She couldn't look at him either. She had a feeling everyone had been insinuating that something had happened between her and Hap, so Juice could probably guess that Happy was the one she spoke of. "It will probably never be what I want it to be, but I'm… stuck right now. And that's not fair to you." She finally looked him in the eyes.

Juice was looking right back. He understood, and he did know that it was Happy. "You never know. Maybe it will happen with him." Juice helped Bryn clean up the first aid supplies and bloody towel before finishing the job he had started.

Bryn just watched on, hoping he was right.

Standing in the driveway, Juice could tell that Bryn was feeling overwhelmed and down. She'd stopped just short of his bike. "Thanks for helping me out, Juice. I owe you." She smiled softly, still troubled by other thoughts.

Juice placed one hand on her cheek, rubbing his thumb softly, "I think things are going to turn out better than you think with him. If they don't, and you need a shoulder to cry on or a little lovin'… or you just change your mind, I'm here."

Bryn reached up and kissed his cheek. "Thanks. That means more to me than you know."

They'd been so wrapped up in their conversation that they hadn't heard Hap roll in on his bike until he was cutting the engine behind Bryn. Juice let his hand fall, looked up at his brother and nodded, "See ya, Killah." Glancing back down at Bryn, "Don't forget what I said, B. See ya."

Bryn just waved as he left. She felt him move in behind her, just off to the side, more from instinct than from physical cues. The air changed. She smelled the leather and tobacco scent that was ultimately Happy. "You and Juice, huh?" He didn't sound like he was asking or joking. There was a tinge of anger and jealousy to his words.

"No. He's just been a really good friend." Bryn tilted her head to look back at Hap. He was watching her so closely that she felt she might freeze beneath his stare. "You crashin' here tonight?"

Bryn started walking toward the house with Happy in tow. "Yeah. If you got other plans, I can do something else."

"No plans here," she made her way to the kitchen. "Any requests for dinner?"

Happy wanted to say "Yeah. You." But thought better. "Nah. Home cooked food is home cooked food. I'll take whatever I can get."

Bryn simply nodded and pulled out roast and potatoes from the fridge. She silently and methodically prepped the food and cleaned the mess. It would be a couple of hours before dinner would be ready. Bryn solemnly made her way into the living room to find Hap already kicked back on the couch watching Sons of Guns—boots by the door and kutte on the entryway table.

Bryn knew he would notice if she became off-standish again, so she sank into the couch to watch the show with him. She found herself clinging to the opposite side of the couch. It wasn't that she couldn't handle being near him, it was that she didn't trust herself to do so. She wanted him, with her core being, she needed to be with him. But what she wanted wasn't what he could give—she'd known that all along. He was a lifetime, dedicated bachelor.

Hap wasn't comfortable with the distance. So he shifted to lying across the couch with his head in her lap. He should have felt freaked out a little. He shouldn't want to be that close to her. Only he did. He'd never wanted to have such close contact with a woman that didn't involve an orgasm. And he couldn't decide when he had become okay with this pseudo-relationship.

Bryn let her hand run over his tats, fascinated by the lines and colors. She let her nail softly glide along the designs peeking from beneath his shirt.

The comfortable silence had returned, but the churning within Bryn had never felt so strong. It was a burning desire infused with fear and self-loathing. She felt unworthy. And her skin began to tingle with that familiar itch.