The MC President's Forsaken Wife (Zara and Knox) novel Chapter 59

Chapter 41-2

I laugh. “Sure you are

“Zara.” His hand settles against my waist. “I’m serious. You’re amazing.

Clay

The excitement growing inside me feels almost ridiculous now that I’ve finally spoken it aloud, but it won’t stop growing, and suddenly I can’t stop talking. Because now that I’ve said it aloud, I can see it all:

The garage. The clubhouse. Dad’s office. Helping Locke with Knox’s bullshit. Working on the bikes when

I’m not.

Being useful, being busy. Being close to my family, close to Locke. Close to the life I’m building instead of the one I lost. Every possibility open to me. Every imagined future close enough to grasp.

And somewhere in the middle of explaining all of it, I realize that Locke has gone quiet, and he’s watching me like a hawk.

I stop talking. “What?”

His gaze meets mine. “Nothing.”

I c**k my head at him. “Locke.”

His hand slides into my hair, curls into a fist. “I think it’s a perfect idea.”

My heart squeezed unexpectedly, because he’s not humoring me, and not indulging me. He genuinely thinks it’s a good idea.

For a moment, neither of us speaks. The city glitters beyond the windows. Somewhere below us, a siren wails faintly in the distance before disappearing again, swallowed by the night. Up here, the future suddenly feels startlingly close.

Not perfect, definitely not easy, but possible. And after everything that’s happened lately, possible feels like a miracle.

“What?” I ask him finally.

“What what?”

“That look.”

“What look?”

“The one where you’re pretending not to have thoughts.”

“Good luck proving that I’m thinking at all.”

I roll my eyes, because the man is as impossible as he is drop-dead gorgeous.

“Okay,” he says. “What I’m thinking is this: what do you think Cobra’s going to say?”

The question makes me burst out laughing.

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Locke looks mildly offended. “What’s funny?”

“Oh, my God.”

“What?”

“You think my father’s going to object?”

Clam

“I don’t know. Maybe he’ll decide that his daughter deserves a cushy office job, with bacon sandwiches being delivered every hour.”

I stare at him. “Locke.”

“What?”

“Dad is the reason that I know how to rebuild an engine.”

His eyebrows lift. “I know.”

“No, I don’t think you understand. When I was fifteen, some guy came into the garage and told me that I shouldn’t be working on motorcycles because I was a girl.”

The smile disappears from Locke’s face immediately, and I can practically see the violence arriving. I pat

his chest.

“Easy, big guy.”

“So what happened?”

I grin. “My father threw him out.”

Locke starts laughing. “Please tell me there was swearing.”

“There was so much swearing.”

His laughter deepens. “And Mayhem?”

“Oh, Mayhem was worse. Mayhem used to hover behind me whenever customers got weird about it.”

Locke’s eyebrows lift. “Hover?”

“As only an overprotective older brother can. There was one guy who kept asking if there was a mechanic available. Apparently standing beside a motorcycle with grease all over my hands and face wasn’t enough evidence.”

“What did Mayhem do?”

“He looked him dead in the eye and said, ‘There is. You’re talking to her.”

Locke laughs again, and the sound wraps around me, warm and genuine. God, I love making him laugh.

“I think they’ll both be thrilled having me back in the garage,” I say. “I really do.”

“I think you’ll be incredible, baby.”

The certainty in his voice steals my breath. Not because of the compliment, exactly, but because he

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Chapter 41-2

means it. He means every word.”

My throat tightens unexpectedly. “You really do, don’t you?”

“I really really do.” Something mischievous appears in his eyes now. “And actually…”

Uh-oh. I’ve learned to recognize that look.

“What?” I say. “What’s that look for?”

The smile spreads slowly. Dangerously. “I was just thinking.”

“No you weren’t.”

“Yes I was.”

“Whatever it is, the answer is absolutely not.”

His grin widens. “Overalls.”

I close my eyes. “Oh, for God’s sake.”

“What?”

“Don’t.”

“I’m serious.”

“You’re never serious when you look like that.”

“I think you’ll look adorable, Zara.”

I groan. “Locke.”

“All sweaty and covered in grease, needing a bath.”

“Stop it.”

“Bent over a motorcycle seat, that hot little ass up in the air.”

Clem

I smack his shoulder, hard enough to make my point, but not hard enough to stop him smiling, the bastard. And before I can launch a second attack, he catches my hand and presses a kiss against my knuckles.

“Okay, you know what I actually think, baby?”

I shake my head suspiciously. “No. What?”

His gaze holds mine. “I think you’re finally starting to look excited about your future again.”

The words land softly, but they land. Because he’s right. God help me. He’s right.

For years, every plan I made somehow revolved around surviving. Surviving Knox. Surviving disappointment. Surviving loneliness. Surviving cancer.

Now, lying here beside a man who believes in me far more than I know how to believe in myself, I’m thinking about motorcycles and family and possibilities. I’m thinking about building things instead of

3/4

Clam

4 Chapter 412-

lesing them. And maybe that’s why I can’t stop smiling.

Well, that and the fact that this smart, sexy, funny, frustrating man gives me multiple orgasms, multiple times a day.

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