I’m so lost in his presence that I don’t realize how long we’ve been standing here or what I was even upset about.
“You alright, sweetheart?” he asks. The timber of his voice is deep and delicious.
“What?” I blink at him like an idiot.
“You’re walking around here late at night, and you’re crying,” he points out.
I wipe my face and let out a self-loathing laugh. “I was having a bit of a dramatic moment,” I tell him, but that’s apparently not good enough.
“No, you got dropped off by a vehicle that isn’t permitted into the compound, and whoever was in it left you crying. Why?” he demands gently. The way he speaks is different from the other guys. Maybe he’s not from the South originally, but it’s more than his dialect. I just can’t put my finger on it.
“It’s stupid,” I deflect, realizing his hands are still on me. He must realize it at the same moment as I do because his hands fall away from my skin.
“I’m sure it’s not,” he counters. His tone is nothing like Greg’s was tonight. No, it’s sweet and assuring. He doesn’t think my feelings are irrational or un-based in logic.
“Take a seat,” he says, pointing his chin towards the desk beside us. I take a seat and look around. He wasn’t working on a bike. His hands are extremely clean, too.
“What were you working on?” I ask curiously, trying to take some of the attention off of myself.
“I’ll tell you what I was working on if you tell me why you were crying,” he barters. I arch an eyebrow at him but nod. My nosiness outweighs my dramatics any day. “Been working through some financials for this place and the club. I don’t know who did this before, but it’s a complete fucking disaster.”
“Calvin used to do it, but he died like five years ago?” I inform, and Cash nods.
“That makes sense. That seems to be when everything went to shit.”
He moves some papers and piles them up before taking the seat in front of the desk. “You going to tell me what happened?”
“Do I have to?” I joke, watching in amazement as a dimple forms on his left cheek when he gives me a closed-lip smile.
“You don’t have to, but you would be breaking a promise,” he teases, and I return the same smile.
“Well, I certainly can’t go breaking promises.”
I probably shouldn’t be talkingto the Prez’s daughter, finding her endearing, or giving a shit about why she’s crying. But I can’t help it.
Even if she wasn’t an Omega, I wouldn’t have been able to let my curiosity slide. Now that she’s dried all of her tears and is joking with me, I’d feel better if she walked away and went back to her house. That doesn’t mean I want her to, though. I haven’t spoken much since I stepped foot on this compound, and I’ve been torn about my next decision.
Patch in, stay nomad, or leave completely. I already know some guys are suspicious of me. It’s not a good look when you go nomad two weeks before your club gets raided and most of your chapter ends up doing time.
But I more than warned them about what was coming. Do all the illegal shit you want, just do it in a way that won’t get you caught. The Prez of the Jacksonville chapter thought he was untouchable, not to mention a real fucking prick.
I’m not sure what I think of this Prez. I haven’t been here long enough. But I know Tate and the fact that he hates his father isn’t making me want to stay, and neither is this financial mess I’d be digging this club out of.
But it is nice to be needed by a club, appreciated. Probably not as good as it would feel to be needed by an Omega. But the one sitting on the table in front of me definitely isn’t an option.
Prez let all of us know that she’s completely off limits and you’re risking your hands if you touch her. But I’m not even thinking of her in that way right now. I just want to make sure she’s safe and okay. Maybe it’s because I know she’s attached to the club or the fact I can’t stand seeing an upset Omega. Either way, this is completely platonic, and that’s okay.
She takes a deep breath after she says she doesn’t want to go around breaking promises. She wipes her face and squishes her hands between her thighs before speaking. “I had a date tonight,” she announces.
“Did they try anything? Did they hurt you?” I ask, ready to hop on my bike and kick their ass. They didn’t even make sure she got home safely. What kind of man does that?
She shakes her head and sighs. “No, nothing like that. It’s stupid really.”
“Tell me,” I urge her, still ready to beat the shit out of them.
An embarrassed noise slips from her throat, and she tries to cover it up with a cough. “I didn’t like them. I knew I wouldn’t before the date even started. But when they dropped me off, the one guy all but said they didn’t find me attractive and they weren’t drawn to my scent… It’s so stupid, I didn’t evenlike them. So I’m not really sure why I’m having this big of a reaction,” she confesses softly.
“Surely you don’t need those assholes telling you that you’re pretty, sweetheart. Come on, now,” I say.
