That’s it. One word.
Rick snorts. “Bullshit.”
I glare at him. “I said no.”
“You always say no,” he says. “Then I see you walkin’ outta the clubhouse with her six hours later.”
“That was before.”
“Before what?” he asks as he chews.
Before Natalie. Before everything changed and I fell in love with his sister. “My life’s complicated enough without club girls right now,” I mutter.
Rick raises an eyebrow. “That so?”
“Yeah.”
“Since when?”
I shrug. “Since I decided peace and quiet was underrated.”
He studies me again, suspicion flickering. “You sound like an old married bastard.”
I don’t respond.
“You got that look,” he says.
“What look?”
“The one that says you ain’t sleepin’ around anymore and you’re cranky about it ‘cause your old lady ain’t puttin’ out.”
I shake my head. “You’re delirious.”
He grins. “Maybe. Or maybe you’re hidin’ somethin’.”
I stand abruptly, needing distance before I say something I can’t take back. “You need rest.”
He scoffs. “You always do that. Change the subject when you don’t wanna answer.”
“Because you don’t always need the answers.”
He watches me for a moment, then sighs. “You been here every day.”
“Of course.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“Yes,” I say firmly. “I did.”
That seems to settle something in him. His expression softens, just a notch. “You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?”
“Been hearin’ that my whole life.”
He chuckles, then winces again. “Fuck. Everything hurts.”
“It’ll get better,” I say.
“When?” he asks. He starts flicking through one of the bike magazines I brought, and I realize that might have been a huge fucking mistake because it’s gonna be months before he’ll be ridin’.
