I stop and turn to look at her. She immediately lets me go, folding her arms. “Could I have a word, please?”
My stomach twists. “Of course. Do you want to go into my office?”
She shakes her head. “No, it won’t take long.” Her stance is cold, like she doesn’t want to be here talking to me. And my hope starts to vanish again. “I just want to ask if my date can come to the clubhouse.” She looks me dead in the eye, daring me to kick off. I clench my jaw. “It’s not really safe out there, is it? And I don’t want to put the baby at risk.”
I stuff my hands in my pockets, my heart twisting painfully.Can I watch her with another man? Here? Whilst she is pregnant with my child?
I inhale deeply. Fuck knows I deserve this, so I nod. A smile spreads across her face, and she practically skips off into the kitchen.
I stare after her, hating that she used to react like that over me, and now, it’s for someone else.
Fuck, I need to win her back.
I stand at the bedroom window, watching her. She’s spread a blanket out on the grass beneath the tree, far enough from the clubhouse to make a point, and she sits there like she doesn’t belong to this place anymore.Like she doesn’t belong to me.
Her hair is curled, catching the sunlight, almost sparkling as she laughs at something he says. Her feet are tucked neatly beneath her, and her body is angled towards him, deep in conversation.
She looks beautiful.Too beautiful.
My jaw locks as I watch him lean closer, like he’s earned the right to sit in my spot. Every muscle in my body tightens. I want to march down there, drag him off that blanket, knock him flat on his back, and show him exactly whose woman he’s sitting with.
But she’s not my woman right now, and storming down there like some jealous caveman won’t win her back. It’ll only prove her point. If anything, she’d probably torch my bike for the effort.
Still, watching another man make her smile feels like someone’s reached inside my chest and twisted.
And he’s nothing like me. If we were standing in the same room, we’d be complete opposites of one another. He’s dressed in a shirt and tie, for a start. There’s zero ink on his skin, and his hair is practically glued into place. I scoff. He’s not even in the same league as her, and he’s definitely not competition for me.
He strokes her hair out of her face as she leans into his touch. I stiffen, biting the inside of my cheek until I taste metal. Fuck, I wanna break every damn one of his fingers.
She looks over her shoulder, glancing around the courtyard until her eyes land on me in the window. Then she turns her attention back to the wet wipe sitting in front of her. I mean, is this bloke even out of fucking nappies? There isn’t even a stubble of facial hair.
And then, as if it’s happening in slow motion, I watch as she leans in and kisses him.Fucking kisses him!I inhale sharply until my lungs feel like they’ll explode. My fists are itching by my sides, needing to feel flesh under them. I’ve tried to stay calm, tried not to lose my shit, but this . . . this is too far.
I storm down the stairs and shove the clubhouse door open. It bangs against the wall as my boots hit the gravel, crunching hard beneath my steps.
Hell turns at the sound, and her brows draw together the second she sees my face. The kid sitting opposite her looks like he’s about to pass out. His eyes go wide, like a cornered animal who’s realised the predator is out of the cage.
I stop a few feet away, chest heaving, nostrils flaring. My whole body is coiled, ready to snap. I’m already picturing dragging him off that blanket.
Then Clay’s hand lands on my arm.
“You go over there like a bull in a China shop,” he mutters quietly so only I hear him, “there’s no coming back from that.”
“She fucking kissed him,” I grind out, my chest tight, my eyes still locked on them.
“Pres,” Clay says calmly, “I get it. I do. But you know Hell better than any of us. Is this going to fix it?”
I exhale slowly, dragging a hand down my face. He’s right. Charging over there isn’t going to win her back. It’s just going to prove her point.
I need her to trust me again, to choose me, but this isn’t the way.
I tear my gaze away from them and turn back towards the clubhouse.
“Thanks, brother,” I mutter.
Clay clasps a hand on my back. “You know I’ve got you.” We head to the bar, and Clay nods towards Hazel. “Get the Pres a whiskey.”
I shake my head. “Make it water.”
