“You did good,” I said.
Her smile spread before she caught it, like she wasn’t sure she was allowed to feel proud. “Thank you.”
Those two words hit deep, settlin’ under my ribs where things didn’t settle easy.
She headed for the clubhouse, and I followed a step behind, close, but not close enough to make it obvious I was trailin’ her like some lovesick idiot. Only… she didn’t walk like she normally did. She floated. Her heart was right there in how she moved—light, hopeful, brave as hell.
Devil’s voice slid through my head, low and sure:You’re gettin’ dangerous. Don’t take back what you give her.
I’d told him he didn’t know what the hell he was talkin’ about.
Right now? I wasn’t so sure.
Inside, the clubhouse wrapped around us, voices, laughter, music,but Lark still felt close, like I was tuned to her without meanin’ to be. She barely made it two steps before Lucy and Zeynep caught her up, both of ’em talkin’ fast, hands flyin’, excitement obvious as daylight.
I should’ve walked off. Hit the bar, the garage, anywhere else.
Instead, I stayed put.
Watched her. Listened to her try to play off a joy she couldn’t smother. Caught the tiny, shy glance she slipped my way—just once, quick as a heartbeat.
My chest tightened. Again.
And the image of her hands on that wheel—small, firm, shakin’ but so damn determined, replayed in my mind, tightening somethin’ deep inside I couldn’t loosen if I tried. Lark wasn’t just special. She was the kind of woman a man protected without thinkin’, the kind of woman who made him rethink the parts of himself he never questioned.
The kind of woman a man like me might not deserve.
But wantin’ her didn’t stop.
Never even slowed.
I turned away finally, jaw locked, steps careful even though everything in me felt thrown off balance. Teachin’ her had been the right call. Giving her freedom? Absolutely. Watchin’ her step into it?
That… I wasn’t ready for. Especially if that future didn’t have me in it.
Didn’t sit right. Didn’t sit at all.
I stepped outside, chasin’ a breath of air I wouldn’t admit I needed. Sun caught on chrome, dust lifted lazy off the gravel, theyard held that quiet noon stillness where a man could hear his own heartbeat loud.
Then somethin’ shifted at the treeline.
A flicker. Small. Quick. Gone before I pinned it down.
I narrowed my eyes, studyin’ the shadows. Pine. Brush. No footsteps. No breath. No reason to think it was anythin’. Accept my gut, and my gut wasn’t easy to argue with.
“Probably a deer,” I muttered, though I damn well didn’t buy it.
I walked toward the trees anyway, boots slow, senses steady and sharp. No branches cracked. No whisper of someone movin’ off. Just quiet stretchin’ long.
Still… the hairs on the back of my neck wouldn’t lay flat.
Didn’t matter that I hadn’t seen a face. Didn’t matter that it might’ve been nothin’.
Somethin’ had been there. Or someone. And if someone was creepin’ around the clubhouse—watchin’ us—watchin’her—that wasn’t somethin’ I let slide. I turned back toward the building, jaw tight, breath tighter. I’d tell Devil, quiet, direct. Enough to get him listenin’, not enough to stir the brothers.
Maybe it was nothin’. Maybe it wasn’t.
Either way, my gut was hummin’ steady.
