“Fucking hell, woman,” he grunts as he pushes me off of him and then slides out of bed.
“It’s a valid concern,” I point out as I pull the sheet up to cover my naked body.
“Is your self-esteem that fucking low that you think I’m going to run right over to them? Is it so low that you can’t see the way I look at you? So low that you can’t understand why I would want to build a life with you again, pick up where I stupidly left off? Christ, Cleo. You aren’t eighteen anymore. You’re a fucking thirty-year-old woman. If I wanted a self-conscious eighteen-year-old, I could have one. Fuck, I could have ten. Figure out what the fuck you want, and do it fast,” he growls as he grabs his jeans and then storms out of the door, slamming it behind him.
I stare at the closed door, cursing myself for not standing up to him and for just spreading my legs for him, as if he has any kind of access to my body. Just because we’re technically married by the state of Texas, doesn’t mean that we have to have sex.
I pinch my eyes closed tightly and shake my head. I need to get away from him. He makes all of my good reasoning completely fade away, and I listen to my stupid body and my heart instead of my head. I end up hurt at every single damn turn.
Slamming the bedroom door behind me, I pull on my jeans, then make my way to the bar. I don’t give a fuck that it’s only six in the morning, I’m drinking, and I’m doing it all goddamn day.
Walking behind the bar, I search for my favorite bottle of tequila and frown when I see that it’s the last one left. Snatching it up, I walk over to the order sheet that’s hanging on the side of the bar and see that it’s not even on the list.
Figuring there must be some more cases in the back, I decide to go over to one of the sofas against the wall and open the bottle. I don’t bother with a shot glass, choosing to drink straight from the neck, since my plan is to drink the whole fuckin’ thing.
I don’t know how much time passes, but eventually, the bar starts filling up—brothers going in and out to start their day, get to work, check up on shit and whatnot. Then I see whores stumbling around in half-hazy sleep and the same clothes, or lack thereof, from the night before, including makeup and ratty assed hair.
“You need some company, today?” Honey asks as she slides up next to me, planting her bony ass right beside mine.
I glance down at her and notice that she looks fresh. She’s showered and changed, and her young face is free of makeup. She’s prettier without all that shit on her face, but she doesn’t hold a candle to Cleo. I open my mouth to tell her to scoot when something catches my eye.
It’s Cleo, frozen in the middle of the room, her eyes focused in on me and Honey. I’m still shirtless, my pants only zipped up, not buttoned, and she’s nestled in close to my side. It looks damning as hell, but I’m so fucking drunk, I can’t seem to find it in me to explain. Besides, she already wants me to be this big asshole who fucks everything that breathes, who doesn’t give a shit about her, so I might as well just let her think whatever the hell she wants to.
“I need to get to work today,” she says after she closes the distance between us, her eyes zeroed in on mine and never wavering.
“Good luck with that,” I shrug, taking another swig from my bottle.
“Paxton, I have no car. Are you going to give me your keys?” she asks, raising a brow.
“Fuck no. You can ask someone for a ride,” I say, sounding like a fucking dick.
“You need a ride to Redding?” Soar asks, walking up behind her.
“I do,” she murmurs as she looks back at him.
“Sure, babe, I’ll give you one,” he grins. I don’t like what he’s insinuating, but I’ll be damned if I make a big scene. She’s completely pissed me off.
Cleo looks at me one last time, her eyes pleading for something I can’t quite read, and then she shakes her head once as she turns and starts to walk away from me. I watch her sweet ass sway in her tight skirt, and then red fills my vision when Soar’s hand presses against her lower back, right above that sweet ass of hers. He turns his head slightly to look at me and grins before he continues on outside of the clubhouse.
“Oh, good, the wet blanket is gone for the day. I do not know how a man like you ended up tied down to a bitch like that,” Honey says with a sigh.
“Go,” I boom.
“What?”
“Get the fuck away from me before I remove you myself—and trust me, you wouldn’t like the way I would do that,” I growl.
Honey stands and scurries away from me in mild panic, but all I can think about is the fact that Soar is touching my woman, taking her an hour away from me to work, and I’m way too fucked up to attempt to go after them.
Goddammit.
“What kind of car is this?” I ask the man who introduced himself as Soar just a few moments ago.
“1967 Shelby GT500e Super Snake,” he grins as he presses his foot on the gas and sends us flying in his gorgeous white muscle car.
“Holy shit,” I breathe as he soars down the road. I wonder if this is how he got his name, because this car practically floats.
“Got it at an auction, day I turned twenty-one,” he shrugs.
“Why then?” I ask, arching a brow.
“That’s when I got the rights to my inheritance,” he smirks with a wink.
I don’t ask him anymore. Though he’s smiling, it doesn’t seem like he wants to talk about it. The ride is silent for a bit, but then Soar starts to talk.
“Pushing him and trying to force him into someone he isn’t, that won’t get you very far.”
“I don’t know him well enough to try and make him someone he isn’t,” I whisper, looking out of the window.
“Thinking you know enough, Cleo. Maybe you forcing him to open up, maybe that’s pushing him to be someone he isn’t. I don’t know Torch well, but I know he doesn’t talk about anything that’s rolling around in his head,” he says, his wrist resting on the top of his steering wheel; his fingers dangling in that way that only men can do. That move alone amps up his sexiness.
“I don’t think this life, the women and everything, I don’t think I could do it,” I murmur.
“Whatever you decide, you need to talk about what your relationship will look like. What you don’t want to do is promise yourself to him, and he do the same to you, and then turn into a complete stranger right before his eyes. All that’ll get you is a lot of hurt and sleepless nights,” he says. He’s not looking at me. He’s staring straight ahead, and looks as though he’s lost in his own thoughts.
“Need to talk about it?” I ask as he pulls the car into the jewelry store parking lot.
“Nope. It’s all good, baby. Though, you get tired of dealing with Torch’s angry ass, you come on over my way. Think we’d have a good fuckin’ time. Never tried a redhead before,” he grins. My eyes widen in surprise. “Get to work, Cleo, before I decide that Torch is no longer a factor.”
I throw the door open and scramble out of the car, practically falling on my ass. All the while, Soar chuckles behind me.
“Hey, babe,” he calls out as I take my first step away from the car. I turn to face him, my hand on the door ready to close it behind me. “What time you get off tonight?”
“I’m staying here in town,” I whisper.
“He is not going to be cool with that,” Soar murmurs.
“I don’t really care what he’s cool with today,” I state.
“Fire. Fuck, baby, get going,” he rumbles.
I close the door and practically sprint into the building. Lisandro is standing behind the counter as soon as I walk inside of the store. His eyes widen and he stares at me for a moment before he drops what he’s doing and runs over to me, wrapping his strong, warm arms around me and holding me tightly.
“I almost chopped Theo’s dick off for letting you go with him. I had no way to contact you, sweetie pie,” he whispers, his voice thick.
“I’m here, and I’m not going back,” I murmur.
“You had sex with him. What did he do to you?” he practically growls.
“Nothing, it’s fine. I’m just not going back,” I state.
“It’s not fine,” he shrieks dropping his hands from my arms.
“We had sex. It was better than I ever remembered, but I’m not doing it again—ever,” I say as I turn from him and walk behind the counter to stow my purse.
“What do you mean, you aren’t doing it again? If it was better than anything else, you definitely need to knock on that door again,” he says.
“Lis,” I sigh as I stand and straighten my skirt. “His club has whores—whores specifically for them to use. It’s their job to screw the members,” I say, scrunching my nose. “And he was drunk before I left to come to work sitting right next to one.”
“Clee,” Lisandro says. His voice is full of pity for me, something I’m used to from him. It doesn’t make me hate it any less.
“It’s fine. Seriously, it is. I’m going to finally get the divorce paperwork handled that I keep avoiding, now that I know where he is; and then I’m moving on with my life. I have the closure I needed. He’s a dick, and I never really knew him. All of this, it was good for me,” I babble.
“Sure it was, sweetie pie,” he murmurs.
“Seriously, it was great. I’m going to be just fine,” I say, giving him my fakest, shakiest, wide smile.
“All right, now tell me about this huge sale you had over the weekend,” he says, trying to change the subject.
My fake smile falls and tears fill my eyes.
“What?” he asks, sounding horrified.
“It was his president and his beautiful fiancée,” I blubber as I bury my face in my hands and let my tears fall.
“Good lord, those people are everywhere,” he snaps. I wonder why he’s mad at me, but then I turn around and see the man I was just referencing walking up to the doors.
“That’s him, the president,” I whisper.
“Damn, he’s hot—but Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, can’t they just leave you alone for a hot damn minute?” he asks. I can’t help the giggle that escapes.
“Sorry to bother you at work, Cleo, but I was wondering if I could have a chat?” Maxfield asks. I turn to face him, watching as his eyes search my face. A look of concern crosses his features.
“Sure,” I shrug.
“Wanna talk outside?” he asks as his eyes flit from me to Lis.
“No, Lisandro knows everything,” I inform. Maxfield lets out a breath before he speaks.
“Know you left the clubhouse to come here. Soar didn’t answer his phone, probably because that car of his is so fuckin’ loud you can’t even hear yourself think. Anyway, shit is goin’ down soon in New York with The Cartel. Don’t know if that’ll affect us here, but we have to stay sharp and aware. You’re supposed to have a brother on you at all times. Torch didn’t set that up for today; don’t know why, but I’ve called a prospect to hang around the building. You need anything, you just ask him. Don’t want you leaving without him. He’ll give you a lift back to the club when you’re done with your shift,” he explains.
“Torch didn’t set it up being he’s drinking tequila and probably fucking one of those whores you have down there. He’s not worried about me, so why are you? And don’t worry about a ride back. I’m not going back,” I say, smarting off, though Maxfield hasn’t done a thing to earn my crappy attitude.
“Protecting you, babe—not for any other reason than you’re still Torch’s wife, which makes you a member of the family and deserving of our protection. You don’t want to go back, that’s cool, but the prospects will just do a shift change and they’ll hang outside of your house, wherever you’re stayin’,” he explains gently, side-stepping the whore part of my response.
“Okay, thank you,” I whisper shakily.
He takes a step toward me and wraps his big hand around the side of my neck. I look up at him, and he gives me a squeeze before he grins, his blue eyes staring down at me. He’s so handsome, I can understand how he totally landed a younger woman.
“You get yourself sorted, then you get him sorted. He switched clubs, came from his home in Idaho to watch after you. Regardless of how that’s playing out right now, how stupid he’s bein’, or how stubborn the both of you are bein’, know that he changed his entire life to protect you, and that’s something pretty fuckin’ amazing,” he murmurs.
“Oh,” I say, unable to speak another word, my lips frozen in an O shape.
“Now, I gotta go. My woman and I are gettin’ married this weekend. You feel like you want to come to a party, meet all the women and see the real families that make up the club? Not just the whores and drunken parties, but a real family party, you’re more than welcome to come on down,” he smiles before he releases his hand from my neck, turns and walks out of the front door.
“How old do you think he is?” Lisandro whispers.
“I think he’s close to sixty,” I announce.
“Hot damn, he’s got a great fucking ass. Theo better look that good when he’s older,” Lis sighs.
“Lisandro,” I say, completely exasperated.
“So, take the protection,” Lis rolls his eyes, “but don’t spread those thighs unless he grovels. Although I would feel better if you just came home to us,” he says. I can feel his eyes boring into me from beside me.
“Yeah, I’m not spreading anything,” I mumble, looking down at my feet. “I just don’t want to put you guys in danger.”
“I understand, but you know we’d protect you. As long as you’re going with him, I think there could be some spreading, especially if he’s as good as you say he is.”
“He is,” I admit.
“You deserve some good orgasms,” he nods. “Just don’t give him your heart. I have a feeling he’d completely crush it all over again.”
“Yeah,” I sigh. I don’t tell him that there’s no use. Paxton’s had my heart, and I don’t think I’ll ever get it back.
The rest of the day is pretty calm, and nothing too crazy happens. The protection Maxfield sent shows up thirty minutes after he leaves, and I see him a few times, walking past the front of the store. He never comes inside, and he doesn’t bother me at all, which I appreciate.
“Ready to head home?” Lis asks once we count our cash drawers and go through the shutdown procedure for the day.
“Yeah,” I sigh as I grab my purse from beneath the counter.
Once we’re outside and Lisandro is locking up, I notice the prospect across the street. I give him a small wave and he just lifts his chin as he straddles his bike, his eyes zeroed in on us.
“They’re all so pretty. Nothing like I imagined,” Lis sighs as we walk toward his black Jeep.
“Yeah, well, I’ve seen more than I want to of some of them,” I say, giving an over exaggerated shiver.
“Don’t tease me, bitch,” he scolds, making me laugh.
It doesn’t take us long to drive to Lis and Theo’s house, and I’m grateful to be there. Though I don’t have anything to wear to bed or to work tomorrow, since the only things I have are the clothes on my back and some casual clothes that I’d left, nothing appropriate to wear to the shop. At this point, I’m so emotionally exhausted I don’t even care.
“Well, this is a surprise,” Theo says as we walk through the door, the motorcycle that followed us idling in front of the house.
“She’s back,” Lis says with a flourish. “For now.”
“For always,” I state. He grins with a shake of his head.
“What?”
“He had a taste of you. He liked what he had back then, and if I’m to guess, he likes it even more now. He won’t just let this go,” Lisandro mutters.
“He liked it so much he was drunk and cuddled up next to another woman almost immediately after?”
“You’ve explained that fight and, sweetie pie, nowhere in it did he say he didn’t want you. If you think he won’t be knocking down our door as soon as he sobers up, you’re living in a dreamland,” Lisandro says, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at me.
“Is my self-esteem that low, Lis?” I ask after we’ve had dinner. We’ve since cleaned up, and I’m settling into bed for the evening.
“Clee,” he sighs, refusing to look at me.
“Lisandro.”
“Yes, fuck. Emotionally, relationship wise at least, you’re stunted. I understand it, I really do. Your parents were shit, then they died; your Gram loved you, but then she died; and then Paxton did what he did and abandoned you. You’ve got issues, Clee. He just wants you to be fixed overnight because he’s a guy and he doesn’t get why you aren’t more confident. You’re absolutely gorgeous. Is he what you want, though? Or is it just sex?”
I stare at my best friend in shock. The way he’s let his words flow makes me realize that he’s thought of this before, he’s just never said it to me. This isn’t a new concept to him, and I don’t know if I’m glad he’s never told me or pissed off because he hasn’t.
“I don’t know,” I admit.
“I want you to be happy, if he’s what you want, then I want you to have him. If he’s just sex, then have that and move on—but take what you want, sweetie pie. You deserve whatever makes you happy, whatever that looks like,” he mutters, “Now, get some sleep.”
“I’m nothing special,” I whisper.
“That’s where you’re dead fucking wrong,” he states as he stands. “You’re gorgeous. You have a body most women would kill for, and it’s effortless, which even pisses me off. Then there’s your demeanor. You’re sweet, and it’s not an act—you just are a sweet person. The only thing you lack is confidence. Maybe that’s something Paxton can pull out of you; or if you’re really done with him, maybe it’s a gift for the next man who finds his way into your sweet heart,” he says. Without another word, he leaves me alone in my room.
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