Page 45 of Hash

“Are you okay?” Jason asks, looking concerned. “Maybe you need to take it easy on the wine.”

Quite the opposite, buddy. I will happily dump everything I pump tonight if it means I can have another glass to get through this date so I don’t punch you in the face.

“I’m fine, thanks.” I give him a tight smile as I take a sip of water.

“Not to pry, but I would kind of like to know what I’m getting involved with here. Is your kid’s dad going to be a problem?”

My brows raise in shock at his question as I lean back in my seat.

He needs to know what he’s getting involved with?

Is this guy for real?

“Not to be blunt, but I don’t think we’re at that level where my kid needs to be involved.” Fucking dick head. “This is still the first date after all.” And there won’t be a second.

“Fair enough,” Jason says as a sly smirk slowly spreads across his face. “You said you’re an esthetician, right?”

“Right.”

“Do you actually make real money doing that?”

That’s it. Fuck this guy.

“I think it’s safe to say we—” I say but stop because the tiny hairs on the back of my neck are standing up, alert with the feeling that someone is watching me. I do a quick scan over my shoulder, thinking it’s probably someone who has been listening to this guy being an asshole all night long and knows I’m about to tell him off.

My blood runs cold as I lock onto the green eyes I see every night in my dreams.

Oh fuck.

Chapter

Fourteen

HASH

Walking outside of the clubhouse the next morning, I see Levi waiting by his bike, looking all too eager to ride.

“You ready for this, prospect?” I ask as I slap him on the shoulder.

Levi sways slightly from the unexpected contact as he plasters a wobbly smile on his face. “Yeah. Been waiting for this day for a while now.”

“Don’t fuck it up,” I say, my face hard as I mount my bike.

“Yes, sir,” Levi responds, his expression sobering.

“Where the fuck is Cyrus?” I ask, looking around.

Levi looks uncomfortable as he shifts from foot to foot. “Uh, he said he was hungry and was having Evan make him a sandwich for the ride. Said something about not wanting to ride hangry.”

Oh, Jesus fucking Christ.

Right on cue, Cyrus comes strolling out of the clubhouse door, heading straight for us with a giant sandwich in his hand.

“You serious with this shit right now?” I ask as he mounts his bike mid-bite.

“What?” Cyrus shrugs. “I don’t like to ride hungry. Makes my tummy growl extra loud.”

All I can do is shake my head because what the fuck.