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Thud.

Thud.

Maybe if I hit this goddamn bag enough times, a plan will cement itself in my mind.

“Roost,” someone calls and I look up, my hands reaching up to stop the swinging bag. Storm is standing at the back door of the clubhouse and I nod to him. “There’s a commotion up at the gate. Go check it out.”

I nod, releasing the bag and grabbing my towel off the bench. “On it.”

As I walk around to the front of the clubhouse, I wipe my face down with the towel before slinging it over my shoulder. I’m barely even halfway across the lot before I hear the yelling and my feet stutter.

Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

Leigh-Ann.

Fuck me.

This is just the thing I needed today after my night with Lennon and beating the shit out of the bag for ninety minutes because she wants to keep things casual.

Fucking perfect.

Then again, maybe now I understand a little better how Leigh-Ann felt.

But it still doesn’t excuse her showing up here and causing a scene.

“My name should be on the list,” she insists as I’m approaching the guard shack. She glances over and as soon as her eyes find me, her brows relax and a smile flashes across her face.

“Rooster,” she says with a sigh like I’m going to solve all her problems. “Tell this jerk that my name is on the list and I’m allowed to be here, please.”

Joe glances over at me, the list of approved visitors in his hand and his brow arched. I shake my head at him, subtly before focusing on the woman in front of me.

“You’re not on the list, Leigh-Ann.”

Her mouth drops open. “What? Why?”

“I took you off,” I tell her and she gasps. Her gaze darts between Joe and me before she takes a step in my direction.

“Why would you do that?”

I frown. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Rooster, baby,” she says, moving closer to the gate and wrapping both hands around the bars in front of her. “Can we go somewhere and talk?”

I shake my head. “There is nothing to talk about, Leigh-Ann.”

“Yes, there is.” She’s gripping the bars so hard that her knuckles are turning white. “We need to talk.”

“About what?” I ask, bewildered. This whole damn situation feels pretty fucking straight forward to me. Leigh-Ann and I were hooking up for a couple months and then I ended it. I don’t know why the fuck she’s still trying to call me and show up here at the clubhouse.

“About us.”

I shake my head. “Leigh-Ann, there is no us. There never was an us. We were casually hooking up and that’s it.”

The irony is not lost on me.

Fucking casual.

If it was anyone but Lennon saying that to me, I’d be all for it but because it’s her…