And the idea of anyone touching me like that causes my stomach to clench.
My instinct is to smile, let him buy me dinner, and laugh at his jokes to keep the peace.Offer what he wants so that he wants you.
But I made a New Year’s resolution that the club girl version of me isn’t allowed out anymore.
“Thanks for the offer, but my time is pretty tied up in the house I’m renovating.”
He straightens a little, his expression hopeful. “I’m actually really handy. Maybe I could?—”
The door swings open. The pathetic bell has never sounded better. I plaster a smile on my face, look toward the door, and freeze.
Smoke walks in. The Iron Outlaws road captain is wearing his leather cut, mirrored shades, and his scruff neatly trimmed. His ink is visible around his neck and at his wrists, but I know what the rest of his body looks like.
I’ve been a participant in his exhibitionism more than once. And I feel a little weird when I think about some of the things he’s done to my feet.
A strange flicker washes over Noah’s face. Distaste? Disdain?
“Jesus,” Smoke mutters as Bones, a chubby tricolor beagle with a slightly pathetic-looking face, tugs at the leash to get to Noah.
Noah drops to the ground to greet Bones, who is a lot more lethargic than he usually is. Quinn is the one who always brings him in. We’ve had some awkward moments, usually interrupted by Deb, one of the vets who is dating Quinn’s assistant at the bakery.
“Isla?” he says, as if he can’t tell if it’s me or not.
I suppose I’m wearing a lot more clothes, have died my hair to its more natural caramel shade so I can grow out all the blonde dye, and am wearing a lot less make-up and no false lashes.
I grip the edge of the counter so hard, my knuckles ache. “Smoke.”
He flicks his sunglasses to the top of his head, like he’s trying to reconcile the two versions of me. “You work here?”
I swallow deeply. “I do.”
No one here knows my past. And with Noah looking curiously between the two of us as he scratches Bones’s belly, I realize Ireallydon’t want them to.
Noah jumps in before I answer. “Isla’s been with us for almost four months. She’s amazing and has saved my butt more times than I can count.”
Smoke’s jaw ticks. “Yeah?”
Heat crawls up my neck. It’s too much. Noah’s attention from one side, and my history with Smoke from the other. I feel cornered and exposed.
“I’ll check you in,” I say quickly. “What’s, uh…going on with Bones?”
Smoke steps closer to the desk. “Quinn thinks he got into some chocolate I left out overnight.”
I open the patient file on Bones and start to add some notes. “Do you know how much chocolate?”
Smoke pulls out an absolutely destroyed wrapper of a milk chocolate bar. “This much?”
Noah stands. “When do you think he ate it?”
Smoke shakes his head. “No idea. But there was a pile of sick that was still wet, so I doubt it was, like, ten hours ago or something.”
Taking the lead, Noah begins walking Bones into the back for treatment. “I’m gonna get him started on some activated charcoal and fluids, and we’ll monitor his heart.”
“Thanks, Doc,” Smoke says, watching them retreat. “Didn’t even want that ridiculous dog of Quinn’s when she first moved in, and now I’m worried sick something bad is gonna happen.”
“Bones will be fine. And Noah is a great vet.”
Smoke nods. “So, you really stopped hanging around the club, huh?”
