ROMANCE: BIKER ROMANCE: Valentine Biker (MC Alpha Male Pregnancy Romance) (New Adult Valentine Romance Short Stories) (152 page)

              When he looked back at her, only then did her breath shudder as it past her lips. He seemed confused by her behavior at first, but then understanding clearly dawned on him. And he didn’t pull away—didn’t look away.

              Christina wasn’t sure what any of that meant; she just knew that she didn’t want the moment to end yet. Without fully thinking about it, she tightened her grip on his rough, cool hands. The dirt in between their fingers prickled her flesh a bit, but she didn’t care.

              Wyatt’s eyelids fluttered closed, and he leaned forward just an inch or so.

              Christina’s gaze snapped to his pink lips. Something primal and wanting came over her then, and she didn’t bother fighting it. Shakily, she leaned over and kissed him.

              Her entire body flushed at the soft contact. It made her mind spin and belly heat up, so she dared to press a little further into him. Wyatt felt so firm, so warm, so strong against her. He was everything she had ever needed in this life, and she was certain she wouldn’t be able to live happily without him. Not ever again.

              He moved against her, and at first, Christina thought he was trying to deepen the kiss. But then he reeled back, making Christina’s eyes snap open. Dread sank inside her chest when she saw how panicked and pained Wyatt seemed.

              “This is wrong,” he choked out, shaking his head and scooting back. Awkwardly, he got to his feet before he hurried out of the garden.

              Christina blinked, dumbfounded and dirty. Tearfully, she lowered her gaze to the potato plants that surrounded her. Though she didn’t feel like she did anything wrong, guilt and shame still twisted her heart. Regardless of how she felt, she had done something to hurt Wyatt. How foolish she was to think that he would ever care for her like she did him. How foolish she was to think that anyone would ever love a half breed like her.

              Heaving out a ragged breath, she got to her feet and headed for the house. She still needed to get that bucket, after all.

              The next day, during an uncomfortable breakfast, Wyatt announced that he needed to go into town to see the butcher.

              Christina frowned deeply at him. She had to force herself to lower her mug of coffee
gently
to the table, her nerves frayed by frustration, hurt, and guilt. “Didn’t you go last week? We have all those chickens—”

              “We need more,” he said gruffly. His meal unfinished, he pushed his plate forward. “I think I should go now before it gets too late.”

              “It’s seven o’clock in the morning.”

              “I know what time it is.” He got up and hurried out of the kitchen.

              Christina clenched her teeth. Her emotions slowly began to swarm together to form rage, and it was driving her mad. Abandoning her own unfinished meal, she stood up and went after her employer. She heard him head to his bedroom—no doubt to get ready for this, supposedly, important trip of his.

              He had just closed his bedroom door by the time she reached it, and she had no qualms over shoving it open.

              Wyatt spun around, his entire form tensing and his brow lowering. He swore vehemently. “What are you doing?! Get out!”

              Perhaps she was pushing her boundaries by entering his private space, but she was too lost in her anger—and her fear, she would admit to herself later—to care about such trivial matters. Seething, she stepped into the room and jabbed a finger toward his chest. “You’re just going to leave me here!”

              “What the hell are you talking about?”

              Indignation fueled her too much—she shook and growled with the power of it. “I made a mistake yesterday, and I am truly sorry, but what kind of coward runs away like this? I don’t deserve abandonment!”

              “This is my house! I’m not abandoning nothing! If I wanted to get rid of you, I’d fire you, I wouldn’t leave my home.”

              The logic of his words made her flinch. Reluctantly humbled, she crossed her arms and stared at the floorboards.

              They remained silent for several seconds. Christina calmed and thought the situation over in a more rational state of mind. Though she wasn’t as embarrassed as she should have been, she winced when she realized what had truly pushed her over the edge.

              “I apologize,” she gritted out. She couldn’t bring herself to look at Wyatt, so she kept her gaze aimed toward her feet. “The day my…my father abandoned me, he told me that he was going to the market for milk, even though I had gone the day before. I…I think I kind of knew he was going to leave me behind, but I didn’t bother stopping him. If he wanted to go, he was going to go; he would never have listened to me if I had asked him to stay.” She sighed, her shoulders sagging in response. Her tiredness felt oddly like defeat, but she decided not to care about it either way. “I should have known this was different, and I apologize for my outburst. And I apologize for what I did yesterday. It was wrong and foolish, and I swear to you, it won’t happen again.” She quickly turned and exited the room. “Be safe on your trip.”

              She had only taken a few steps down the hallway when she heard Wyatt hurry after her. She didn’t slow though—didn’t want to confront him again.

              “You can come with me, if you would like,” he said. “I don’t want you staying here and worrying.”

              “I’ll be fine.”

              “Will you?”

              Christina huffed and turned around in time to see Wyatt stumble to a halt. She glared. “I get the feeling that you do not truly want me to accompany you.”

              “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want you to.”

              She eyed him suspiciously while he simply stared back at her. She let her own insecurity get the better of her—imagined waiting for hours, if not days, for Wyatt to possibly return to her. It made anxiety choke her for a moment.

              “Very well,” she said, trying to sound strong. “I will accompany you then.”

              “Good.”

              “Good.”

              “I will go get ready then.”

              “As will I.”

              She turned and headed toward her room. She listened to Wyatt stride back to his room.

              The trip into town was a quiet and a bumpy one. Christina glanced at Wyatt occasionally, but as far as she could tell, he never once looked in her direction. He didn’t seem all that bothered by her presence though. She wasn’t sure if this was a good sign or not.

              He parked the wagon right by the butcher shop. He quickly hopped off to search for a trough of water, but there wasn’t any nearby. Christina watched him as he glared, frustration wrinkling the skin around his eyes.

              Christina carefully stepped off the wagon and walked toward the butcher shop. Looking back at Wyatt, she said, “We’ll get the horses to another trough later. They’ll be alright for now though, won’t they?”

              He grumbled something and nodded before making his slow way around the wagon and up to the butcher shop. He didn’t even glance at her as he walked by her, making her clench her hands into fists.

              As she turned to follow him, some man exited the shop and got in their way. He held a crate, reeked with cold meat, in his arms.

              Christina wouldn’t have given him a second thought had Wyatt not stiffened and paled. Christina came up to stand beside him, and she gave him a curious look before returning her gaze to the stranger.

              He was blonder and shorter than Wyatt—nothing intimidating or overly shocking. Regardless, the man was gaping at Wyatt in the same way Wyatt was gaping at him.

              “Hello,” the stranger said, smiling watery. “It’s been some time, Wyatt. How are you?” The man’s eyes finally shifted to acknowledge Christina. “And who is your new friend?”

              Wyatt inhaled sharply, then said nothing.

              Christina furrowed her brow at him before she awkwardly smiled at the gentleman. “My name is Christina. And who are you?”

              “I’m Thomas Jamison. I’d kiss your hand, but—” He tilted his head down to the crate and grinned. “In any case, I’m glad to see that Wyatt has met someone special again. I’m sure he hasn’t mentioned me—doesn’t even like to speak with us, understandably, but we do worry about him. If you don’t mind me asking, how long have you two been married?”

              Christina was more baffled than anything else. But her quiet moment of confusion seemed to be enough to set Wyatt off.

              “You presumptuous jackass,” he snarled, stepping in front of Christina and glowering down at Thomas. “How dare you?”

              Thomas took a step back. “Wyatt, I didn’t mean to be—”

              “I love Sara, and I vowed to love her until the day I died. She deserves to have that promise kept.”

              “Wyatt,” Thomas said softly, grimacing. “She’s been gone for years. I think she would understand—”

              “Enough!” Wyatt spun around and stormed his way toward the wagon. “I don’t have to stand here and listen to this.”

              Thomas was surprisingly fast, what with the crate and all, as he bypassed Christina and followed Wyatt. “You know, you ain’t the only person who lost someone, Wyatt! And you acting like some martyr for Sara’s sake doesn’t do her or anyone else any good.”

              “Get away from me,” Wyatt growled before his gaze snapped back to Christina. “Christine, let’s go already!”

              “You can still love someone and move on,” Thomas continued, his tone desperate. “You’re allowed to live the rest of your life!”

              “Not without her!” Wyatt snarled. He quickly moved to face Thomas more head on. “I can’t do that to Sara. She’s still in my heart, I can’t—” His face reddened, but if it was in anger or humiliation, Christina couldn’t tell. Perhaps it was in both. “You can’t understand what it’s like to lose the love of your life, or what it’s like to live with integrity. I can never love someone like I love her.”

              Thomas continued to argue with Wyatt, but Christina couldn’t stand to listen to the two of them anymore. Wyatt’s words had seared themselves into her heart in the worst way possible. It brought sorrow and comprehension down upon her as she thought about what happened the day before—about Sara’s portrait, Sara’s clothes, Wyatt’s wedding ring…Christina had been a selfish, cruel fool. Wyatt had saved her from homeless and poverty, and how did she repay him? She choked on a sob, her vision blurring from tears.

              Barely holding her emotions back, she quietly walked away from the butcher shop. Wyatt and Thomas didn’t seem to notice as she made her way behind a neighboring shop. There, she continued her slow walk. Hunching over herself, she eventually let her tears loose, though she swallowed back her sobs; she didn’t want to draw any attention to herself. She didn’t think there would be any Wyatt to save her this time around.

              The thought made her stop. She was standing in the shade of some different shop, but she didn’t care. Her gaze flitted over the ground as a determined anger rushed through her veins.

              She wasn’t the same person when Wyatt had first met her. She had learned how to grow food, how to care for a lovely house, how to shop for things in town, how to get to town from an isolated place higher in the mountains, and the air felt right as she breathed it in.

              If Christina had learned anything about herself during these past several months, it was that she could survive. And she would survive this.

              She swallowed thickly and nodded to herself. Then she went about wiping her face dry. She didn’t truly think Wyatt would leave her, no matter how he felt about Thomas’s “presumptions,” but she figured she should prepare herself in case he did. She would need to find a new home—get a job, perhaps.

              Distracted by these thoughts, Christina breathed a little easier as she walked out of the shop’s shadow and toward the main street again—toward the front of all the shops.

              She was walking near the side of a shop when a loud crash across the street made her reel back, her eyes wide and her arms flailing. When she straightened, she moved forward as her gaze snapped to the two story hotel on the other side of the street. The balcony had collapsed on the building’s porch, and Christina could see one dark-haired woman was stuck under the rubble. A huge cloud of dust surrounded the area, making Christina’s eyes water.

              “Oh, God,” she whispered, horror chilling her blood. She couldn’t bring herself to move. She was barely able to breathe, and even then, the puffs of dust were tickling her throat. She coughed lowly. “Oh, God. Please, please, let everyone be alright.” To make the prayer more proper, she pressed her hands together and repeated herself.

              “CHRISTINA!”

              Christina jumped, her heartrate skyrocketing. She fell back against the wall beside her, and her widened eyes darted about through the settling dust. Though she had never heard him use that tone before, she was certain that had been Wyatt’s voice screaming her name. But why?