…
A distant banging thumps through my head, and I force open one eye and check the time. It’s almost seven, which means I’ve overslept, but the banging continues, which means it’s not part of my fractured dreams.
I stumble out of my bedroom and pull on my robe. There’s only one person I can think would be at the door at this time in the morning, and I’ve no idea how I’m supposed to greet him. With a smile? Or a smack around the head?
I groan and rest my forehead against the front door as I try and wake up and sort out my thoughts.
Stay cool, calm, and collected.Another essential I bought yesterday was an embarrassingly large supply of condoms, and I might as well get my money’s worth. Any other time that’d make me grin, but I have the horrible vision of Ty screwing another woman last night, and no matter how adult I intend to be about the situation, the image turns my stomach. Yes, I agreed to his terms, even though I didn’t like it, but the truth is I never thought he’d actually do it, not when we had less than a week together.
Before I unhook the security chain, I peek through the spyhole just to be on the safe side. He has his back to me as though he’s on the point of leaving, so I tighten the belt of my bathrobe and open the door.
He turns, and anything I might’ve said locks in my throat as I stare at the takeaway breakfast in his hands.
“Morning.” He gives me a grin as though this is completely normal, and I shuffle back so he can come inside. “Hot chocolate and a bacon and egg roll.” He hands me the cup and paper bag, and there’s a burning sensation in my chest that threatens to overwhelm me.
I clear my throat and kick the door shut. “Thanks.” My voice is croaky, but he doesn’t seem to notice as he strolls into the living room and makes himself at home on the couch. And because I can’t think of anything else to say right then, I take a quick sip of the hot chocolate.
The sugar hits me, and I can’t help the wince, but I swallow and manage a game smile.
“What’s the matter?” He pauses with his roll halfway to his mouth. “Not enough sugar?”
“No, it’s great.” I take another mouthful and manage not to gag. It’s been years since I gave up sugar, but there’s no way I’m telling him that when he’s remembered, after so long, what a sweet tooth I used to have. “Unexpected,” I add as I sit next to him and open up the bag.
“Yeah, well.” He shrugs and looks a little uncomfortable. “Thought this’d get me through the door. I couldn’t get away last night.”
I place the cup on the floor. It doesn’t sound as though he was with another woman, after all. “Everything okay?” My voice is deliberately casual, and I bite into my roll. I didn’t realize how hungry I was.
“Just some trouble at the club. Could’ve sorted it out, but some fucking dickhead called the cops.”
“Mm.” I nod, my mouth full of egg, but I don’t really get it. Not the trouble at the clubhouse—that’s too easy to believe. It’s the calling of the cops. None of the Bastards would do that. At least, not from what I remember.
“They won’t make that mistake again.”
“I bet they won’t.” Maybe he’s talking about a clueless hang-around. I don’t want to know the fallout from that, but blood and broken bones were probably involved.
“No one screws me over at work.”
I’m not sure what he means by that, since we were talking about the MC, but it makes me wonder. Does he still work for his dad? I guess so. The stripper business Jett owned was always profitable. And while I have many issues with the whole idea of exploiting women for the benefit of sleazy shitheads, now’s hardly the time or place to list them.
Right now, I just want to find out everything I can about Ty’s life, as though filling in the missing pieces will somehow make it easier to move on.
“How’s it going? At work, I mean?”
“It’s okay. Makes a profit.”
“Mm.” I’m not sure what I wanted him to say. Maybe deep down, all I wanted to hear was that he’d broken away from Jett’s fleshpot empire.
Like that’d ever happen. Jett never made any secret of the fact he expected Ty to take over his business when he retired, and Ty always seemed keen.We’ll always be okay,he told me on more than one occasion, and the one time I tried to tell him how uncomfortable it all made me, he thought someone had made a mean comment about my mom and threatened to knock their brains out.
I don’t want to talk about the Bastards. Don’t want to talk about the brotherhood at all. I take another bite of my breakfast and pretend not to notice the quick sideways glance he gives me, as though he expected more questions.
After a few moments, he breaks the silence. “Need your number, babe.”
“Sure.” I pull my cell from my pocket, and we exchange numbers. Will he delete mine on Friday? Will I deletehis?
He screws up his empty bag, drops it next to him, and drapes his arm around my shoulders. “Did you miss me last night?” He leers at me, and I laugh and snuggle against him.I’ve missed this so much.
“Yes. I was hoping for a massage. My muscles were killing me.”
