Page 28 of Wade’s Wrath

“Yep, and I need five more minutes,” she said again.

Wade stared at her, and she stared back at him. “Stubborn as hell,” he grumbled. “Fine.”

Her smile was victorious. “Thank you.” Wade shook his head as she walked away. He watched her ass for approximately two seconds, and then immediately looked elsewhere. This was going to be a long fucking day.

Harlow insisted that she was going to pay him back, and Wade insisted he didn't give a shit. They were still arguing about it when they reached the truck. “I'll get you the money,” she promised.

“Okay,” he grumbled. He honestly didn’t give a shit about the money, but she kept pushing.

“I mean it,” she insisted.

“Okay,” he said with a shrug.

“Stop saying okay like you don't believe me,” Harlow spat.

Wade opened the passenger door. “Okay.”

She glared at him, and all he could do was smile. “You are the most aggravating man I've ever met.”

“Your standards are low if I'm beating Frank already,” he said. Her expression changed. Fuck. Wade hated how quickly that asshole could steal the light from her face without even being there. “Harlow.”

“I'm fine,” she lied.

“Stop saying that you’re fine when you’re obviously not fine,” he insisted.

“What would you prefer I say?” she asked.

“How about the truth?” he asked.

She crossed her arms. “The truth is that every time someone says his name, my stomach hurts.” Wade's smile disappeared. “Is that truthful enough for you?”

“Yeah,” he said.

“Good.” She started to climb into the truck, and Wade gently caught her elbow. Harlow froze, and he released her immediately.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

She looked at the spot where he'd touched her and then back at him. “You didn't hurt me.”

“Still should've warned you that I was going to touch you,” he said. Something softened in her expression. “What’s that look for?” he asked.

Harlow shrugged. “It’s nothing,” she lied.

“Don't give me that shit,” he growled.

She almost smiled. “I was just thinking that you're nothing like I expected.”

“What'd you expect?” he asked.

“From a biker?”

“Yeah,” he said.

She looked him over. The glance shouldn't have felt as good as it did. “I guess I expected you to be mean.”

“I am mean,” he insisted.

“And violent,” she added.