I stare at him.He stares right back.The man didn’t become president by missing the obvious.
“She’s twenty-six,” he says after a beat.I go still because what does that shit matter?He doesn’t.“You’re fifty-one.”
“Fifty,” I correct automatically.
His brows lift.
“Thought your birthday was last month.Pretty sure we had a cake and shit because Alaina made that special.”
Hell.Old habits die hard and yeah, I gained a year.“Fine.Fifty-one.”
Chux gives me a flat look.“Glad we cleared that up.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Doesn’t it?”
“No.”
He studies me a second longer, then sits back.“Brother, you want a woman, that’s your business.You want a single mom, that’s still your business.But don’t lie to me and call it neighborly concern when you’ve got a prospect staking her out and your old ass napping on her porch.Own that shit, lay your claim so I can release the whole fucking club on her.”
Despite myself, a laugh almost gets out.Almost.“She’s in trouble,” I say.
“And you’re interested.”
I hold his gaze.“Those two things aren’t mutually exclusive.”
“No,” he agrees.“They sure as hell ain’t.”
He rubs his thumb over the edge of the desk.“Just be smart.”
“I am smart.”
“That’s debatable.”
I grunt.Fair.
Chux nods toward the door.“You know what I’m saying.”
Yeah.I do.Single mom means there’s more on the line than chemistry and bad judgment.Means feelings hit wider.Means if I step wrong, I don’t just hurt Lucy.I disrupt a kid’s world too.
I stand.“I’m not doing anything.”
Chux gives me a look so dry it could start a fire.“Sure you’re not.You know the resources go farther if you finally man up and admit you got something worth holdin’ onto with this one.”
I don’t reply.Instead, I head out before the conversation can get any more annoying.
Back in my room at the clubhouse, I shut the door behind me and drop onto the edge of the bed.The place is the same as always—small, sparce, functional.Bed, dresser, chair, scarred nightstand.A life built for motion, not permanence.
I drag both hands over my face and let out a slow breath.Neighborly concern.That’s what this is.A woman in town with a shitty ex and a kid to protect.That’s all.I’d do the same for anybody.
Wouldn’t I?
I picture Lucy in that robe this morning, blinking sleepily down at me on the porch.
I picture her kitchen.Her laugh.The way she looked at me over a mug of coffee like I was both a problem and something she hadn’t decided she minded.Then Quinn at the table, asking if I could come to career day.
My chest does something I don’t appreciate.It tightens.There is real concern, care inside me.And that kind of shit makes me dangerous.
