Steal Vows

Chapter Three: Protection, Not Charity

She shook her head as she walked away from him just to end this conversation, and then she said,

“I came here looking for peace and something I could call mine... I don't want to stay there... I... want peace. I can't get that there with everyone watching me like I'm something to fear or the new flavor of the month. I'm not some young thing that interests most of them in a s****l way, but in their minds I'm some kind of threat, and it's like walking on eggshells.”

Knox went still. Not the kind of stillness that means nothing-the kind that means everything. A threat. That's what they'd see. Not a woman, not a person. A threat. Because she's older, because she doesn't play the game, because she won't bend without breaking. She's right.

He understood that better than most.

“I guess I will stay. Take me to a travel trailer rental agency, and we'll bring it back here, and then you can take me back to my bike. You will know where I am at night, and I will get to know the area and the property and see if it is possible.”

Knox nodded once, sharp and final. The compromise was a good one, and the conversation was over, but something had shifted between them. He'd gotten what he needed-her decision to stay, even if it was wrapped in conditions and distance. She started pacing, then stopped to answer his question.

“Alright, you're not staying at the clubhouse then, he said softly. You find a place nearby. I'll make sure it's safe. No one touches your property, no one watches. You work your counseling job, you buy your land, you build what you need to build.”

He paused, studying her face.

“But you don't disappear on me. You check in. You let me know you're breathing.”

She looked at him, not understanding why he cared about her at all.

“Why? What do you want from me? Why do you care, or am I just a threat to you as well? Just tell me no lies if you are planning to use me in some way; I'll never be free here. I would rather not even start.”

Knox stood motionless on the edge of the water, the weight of her question settled over him like a physical thing. No lies. She's asking for the one thing he's never given anyone-honesty about his own motives, which he barely understood himself.

He turned away, hands shoved deep in his pockets.

“I don't know yet, he said roughly. You walked into my world at the wrong moment, and instead of being smart, I kept you. That's not strategy. That's something else.”

He glanced back at her, eyes hard and uncertain in a way that looked foreign on his face.

“You're not a threat to me. You're a complication. And I haven't decided if I'm keeping you around because you interest me or because I'm losing my edge.”

His shoulders straightened as he turned back around and continued.

“But I'm not using you. Not for that.”

Tess moved closer and pulled him towards her to look into his eyes and asked

“Then for what?” She turned back around, suddenly feeling vulnerable and not wanting to see his face when he answered. She was starting to feel things she shouldn't. He's very sexy but younger than her, for sure.

Knox didn't answer right away. He turned to fully face her, and there was something raw in his expression-something he didn't usually let show. The distance between them felt smaller than it was.

“I want you around because when you look at me, you don't see the club president or the monster. You see Adrian. And I haven't had that in so long I forgot what it felt like.”

He stepped closer, deliberate and slow.

“You're not that older than me, and you're real. There's a big difference”

His voice dropped lower, rougher.

“And yeah, you're sexy as hell. But that's not why I'm asking you to stay”.

What? She's not sexy. She hasn't been sexy in years. She started laughing, full deep laughter, and she said,

“Yeah, right. I'm not sexy either, haven't been that in a long, long time... you're young. s**t, how old are you?” she asked.

Knox's expression hardened at the laugh, at the self-deprecation. He didn't find it funny.

“Forty-nine, born in July. Fifty in two weeks.”

He closed the distance between them, his presence suddenly overwhelming in the quiet of the afternoon sun.

“And you're wrong about yourself. You move like you know exactly who you are. You don't apologize for your opinions. You rode cross-country alone on a bike because you wanted to. That's sexy as hell, and it has nothing to do with your age.”

His hand reached out, fingers brushing her chin, tilting her face up toward his.

“Stop deciding what you are for other people.”

She knitted her eyebrows and tried to turn away. She's not self-deprecating; she just doesn't live in denial. She's fifty-five with a tummy, sagging skin, and she doesn't move like she used to. It's just the way it is. She loves who she is, that's different than what she looks like, but he's combining the two, which throws her off.

Knox's hand dropped when she turned away. He read the shift-not rejection, but confusion. She loved who she was. That's not the same as believing she was desirable, and the distinction matters to him more than it should.

He stepped back, giving her space.

“You know you're very easy to read,” he chuckled then said.

“I'm not combining anything; you're confusing confidence with vanity. You know yourself; that's rare. Most women your age are still performing for men like me.”

He decided to give in.

“Fine. There's a place in town that rents travel trailers. We'll get you set up.”

He started walking back toward the truck, his movements controlled and purposeful. The property stretched around them, quiet except for the sound of water lapping against the shore. The afternoon sun was bright in the sky, making them feel tired and ready to get cool.

When they reached the truck, he paused with his hand on the door handle.

“You'll need propane and a water hookup. I'll make sure the utilities are connected by tomorrow.”

His tone was business-like, but there was an undercurrent of something else. Relief maybe. Or satisfaction that she's not running to Virginia after all.

She followed him to the truck and said,

“Okay, thank you. There's battery power in the trailer; it'll work for tonight, and I'll need to stock it with food and essentials for the week: bug spray, candles, a lantern, maybe some outdoor chairs and a table, towels, etc.”

Knox listened without interrupting, his mind already calculating. He pulled out his phone, typed a message to one of his prospects-a kid named Marcus who handles logistics.

“We'll stop at the supply store first; you get what you need. I'll cover it.”

He didn't wait for her to argue about payment as his truck pulled onto the main road, heading toward town. The afternoon sun beat down on the windshield as he drove with one hand, the other resting on the window frame.

“One week, he said quietly, eyes fixed on the road ahead. Then we talk about what comes after.”

It's not a question. It's a timeline. A boundary he'd already drawn.

“Very well. How's the phone connection here? I need to work, and I need internet connection. And I can pay for my own stuff. I don't want to owe you,” she said plainly.

Knox's hands tightened on the wheel. The money thing-he expected that. Independence. She didn't want to be indebted, didn't want strings attached. He respected it, even if it irritated him.

“Phone connection's solid out here. Verizon tower about two miles north. Internet's decent if you're not streaming video all day.”

He took the turn toward town, mind working out the needs list.

“Okay, I'll compromise... You pay for your own supplies then. But the trailer rental and utilities come from me. That's not negotiable. You're on Nightmare territory. It's protection, not charity.”

His eyes flicked to her briefly.

“And you don't owe me anything for it...ever.”

Hmm, she made that sound again and said, “Yeah, you say that now”.

She didn't trust him, and she was making it clear, and that drove him crazy... why, when she acts like that, everything in his being wants to shut her up with his mouth and body? He asked himself f**k. He just didn't say anything. It took twenty minutes of cold silence to get to the trailer place, and as they arrived, he said,

“It's not negotiable. That's final,” and got out of the truck.

The trailer lot sprawled under the late afternoon heat, rows of white and silver units baking in the sun. Knox strode toward the office without waiting, his presence alone drawing the owner's attention-a thin man in his sixties who recognized trouble when it walked through the door.

“Knox,” he said carefully.

Knox sized him up quickly and said,

“I need a trailer. Week rental. Full hookups.”

The lot owner nodded fast, already moving. He didn't ask questions. Nobody does in this area.

While paperwork got handled, Knox leaned against the counter, watching her through the window. She was studying the trailers like she was calculating square footage, water pressure, escape routes. Always measuring. Always ready to run.

His chest tightened with something he refused to name.

She walked in the door; the cool air hit her like a brick, and she shivered.

“Do I get to choose which one?” Her eyes lit up for just a moment while looking at the shiny new trailers.

“I live in one back home and have owned fifteen, so I know my way around them.” She made sure he understood she wouldn't f**k it up.

Knox's expression shifted-barely perceptible, but it was there. Fifteen trailers. She knew what she was doing. That detail mattered more than it should.

He nodded at the owner, a silent command. The man gestured toward the lot.

“Pick whichever one you want.”

Knox followed her outside into the heat, watching the way her eyes moved across the units with purpose. No hesitation, no second-guessing. She walked like she owned the place already. His smile came in pieces. Bit by bit. He realized she was not just surviving-she was building. Planning. She came here for peace and land, and she was going to take it whether he helped or not.

He lit a cigarette, leaned against his truck bed and asked,

“You've lived in one before? Where?”

She turned around and looked at him and said with a smile,

“I live in one currently back home. It's way older than these and kinda falling apart and small, but it's paid for. She shrugged. It's only a 24-footer with a single tip-out,” she said as she went to get inside a 35 ft. 5th wheel with 6 tip-outs.

Her eyes lit up when the dealer showed her the hidden office and the full bathtub and washer and dryer in the bedroom.

Knox nodded.

“We'll take it, from behind her shoulder. It's perfect for you to work in and make a home here.”

She stopped mid-step, turned to look at him. The dealer watched nervously-he knew Knox's reputation, knew this wasn't a casual transaction.

She ran her hand along the kitchen counter, testing the surface. The office space was tucked near the front, perfect for video calls with clients. Natural light from the window. She opened the bathroom door, saw the full tub and washer-dryer combo, and something in her chest loosened.

“It's too much”, she said quietly, but her eyes betrayed her. She wanted it.

Knox stepped closer, his presence filling the small space.

“It's what you need. There's a difference.”

He turned to the dealer without waiting for her response.

“Deliver it to Moss Lake property by tomorrow morning. Full setup, and it goes into her name. I'll pay for it, we'll buy it not rent.”

It's too perfect for her, even if she chose not to stay, it was the least he could do for the trauma he'd caused her, he thought.

And his hand went up to her mouth as she tried to protest. Effectively shutting it down.