I glance over my shoulder.
Nothing.
But my skin crawls anyway, because I know this much for sure. Whatever I stepped into last night didn’t stay at the clubhouse. It followed me.
Lottie’s kitchen smells like coffee, bacon grease, and judgment.
I sit at her little round table with my head in my hands, sunglasses still on even though I’m inside, because the light hurts and so does my pride. My stomach rolls every time I move. I sip coffee like it’s medicine.
Lottie doesn’t say anything at first. She just watches me over the rim of her mug, one eyebrow lifted like she’s waiting for me to get to the point.
“You left me,” I finally say.
She snorts. “I didn’t leave you. I checked on you.”
I lift my head slowly. “You disappeared.”
“You were having a damn good time,” she says. “Laughing. Dancing. Talking with everybody like you owned the place.”
“I passed out.”
“Eventually.”
I glare at her.
“Why would you leave me there?”
Lottie sighs and sets her mug down. “Because I knew Oaks was working the door.”
My stomach tightens. “You what?”
She leans back in her chair. “He was the bouncer last night. He always is when things get rowdy. I saw him clock you the second you started wobbling.”
“That doesn’t make me feel better.”
“It should,” she says. “Ain’t a man in that clubhouse who’d cross him and live easy after. And he don’t let anyone take advantage. Period.”
I stare at the table. The memory of the note presses against my ribs again.
“So,” I say carefully, “you trust him.”
Lottie’s mouth quirks. “Trust is a strong word.”
“But…”
“He’s too old for you,” she cuts in. “And he’s a hound dog.”
That makes my head snap up. “A what?”
“A hound dog,” she says. “Pretty women, bad decisions, and no sense when it comes to either.” She squints at me. “You didn’t know?”
“I thought he was married.”
“He is.”
My chest tightens. “Then why…”
“Because that marriage ain’t what you think it is,” Lottie says flatly.
