“Yeah, you’re not doing that anymore,” Topanga says.
Lowell reaches for his wife as if hoping to rein her in. “I still don’t know how she’s sure it was me.”
“Did your mom lie a lot, baby?” Topanga asks, giving Monroe a sympathetic pout.
“Rarely,” Monroe lies, revealing a defiant snarl at where this conversation is headed. My dick rightfully twitches in response to her lips’ reaction.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Bronco asks, serious now. “You’ve been hanging around for weeks.”
“I came here looking for Lowell but then chickened out,” Monroe says, refusing to look away from Bronco. She’s stuck between quiet defiance and childlike fear. “I planned out what I wanted to say, but the bar was busy, and a bunch of you came in together. I didn’t know who was who.”
“You poor thing,” Topanga says, but I sense she doubts Monroe’s story. “Where is Needy Hobbs now?”
“Missing,” Monroe says, revealing both her little snarl again and her tell when she lies.
Topanga frowns, seeming confused over whether or not to feel bad for Lowell’s maybe-daughter.
“Tomorrow,” Lowell says, getting his back up as he gestures for his wife, “we’ll take a test to find out what’s what. I mean, I knew Needy, but she was a bunny. I don’t know why she’d assume I was your dad rather than Bronco or one of the other men.”
Monroe refuses to look at Lowell, which is odd. She was ready to punch Topanga after the slap, and she didn’t mind eyeballing Bronco. But with Lowell, she falls into the submissive routine and lowers her gaze.
“What did Needy look like?” Topanga asks.
Monroe wakes up from her compliant vibe and whips out her phone to reveal a picture of her mom. I smile at how happy a brunette Monroe looks next to her beautiful blonde mother.
“This was her before she went away.”
“She has blue eyes,” Topanga says and looks back at Lowell. “And you both have brown eyes.”
“That means absolutely nothing,” Lowell grumbles as if his wife is nuts. “Bronco has brown eyes, too. Two of his daughters have brown eyes. She could be his.”
“No, she’s not,” Bronco says immediately, instigating a dark glare from Lowell. My uncle shrugs. “I can tell.”
Lowell shakes his head, digging into his position as the skeptic. “She doesn’t look like Dunning or me.”
“Your son,” Monroe mumbles, seeming tired now.
“He’s a wonderful boy,” Topanga gushes. “So handsome. He has brown eyes like his daddy, too.”
“No,” Lowell says, tugging his wife away from his maybe-daughter. “Look, Monroe, I’m not trying to be a dick, but you can’t expect me to welcome you into the family based on your mother’s word. First, Needy never said shit about you to me for two decades. Second, you’ve been here for weeks without mentioning anything. You only fessed up once Topanga attacked you.”
“A minor thing,” Topanga says, waving off his concerns. “I barely hit her.”
“We’ll get the test. If I’m your dad, then, yeah, that’s great,” he says, sounding as if he’ll pitch a fit if Monroe’s right. “If I’m not, we’ll run tests on the rest of the guys from back in the day. Hell, Wheels could have had another daughter, and Conor’s been hot for his sister for weeks.”
“Nope,” I say and provoke a hint of a smile out of Monroe.
“That’s not appropriate,” Topanga growls at Lowell. “Edit yourself.”
“It’s late. We’ll meet tomorrow and figure things out,” Lowell says, wrestling with his wife to force her out the door.
There’s a moment when I think he’ll look back and offer Monroe a reassuring glance. Instead, he’s out the door, more focused on corralling his wife than soothing his maybe-daughter.
Bronco doesn’t follow immediately. He’s considering hitting up Monroe for more details. I also suspect he’s worried she might be his. I think that’s why he looks at her for a long minute. Monroe doesn’t believe he’s her dad. That’s why she fearlessly holds his gaze. I learn a lot about Monroe right then, understanding her past and seeing through at least one of her lies.
No way is there an abusive ex-boyfriend hunting for her. Women who get smacked around don’t tend to be so brave around powerful men like Bronco. Monroe knows what he is and how he can get rid of her. But she doesn’t bow. Monroe’s either naïve as fuck, or, more likely, Bronco isn’t the scariest man she’s met. Since the Scary Asshole Award winner didn’t break her, she assumes Bronco won’t, either.
No, she’s hiding from someone besides a slap-happy boyfriend. That’s a conversation for another day, though.
First, I watch Bronco and Anders leave the room. The former gives me a side-frown, likely wondering if I knew something that I chose not to share with him. Oh, Uncle, I know plenty of stuff! Of course, I learned long ago to keep my mouth shut until the time was right to speak up.
Bronco doesn’t shut the door behind him, letting the sound of Toby Keith filter into the room where Monroe and I still stand.
“Why did you come into the room with us?” Monroe asks, now challenging me with her unflinching gaze.
“I figured they might gang up on you.”
“Why don’t you ask me out if you want me?”
“I know you’re hiding behind a wall of lies. I’m worried the reality of you won’t live up to the fantasy I’ve created in my head.”
“You’re too honest,” she says, losing her confidence.
“Juggling lies only works for so long. Sooner or later, you’ll start dropping a few. Then, the rest is bound to hit the ground. Tonight, you lost control of one of them.”
Monroe gives me a pained look. “I thought of seducing you into bed and making a baby. Then, using our kid to manipulate you into protecting me. Wouldn’t that be a solid plan? You have no old lady to threaten me to leave town, and you’re an important guy. With your kid in me, you’d have no choice but to protect me.”
“Then, why did I remain unseduced?”
Monroe considers smiling at the idea of seducing me. Instead, she shrugs. “The kid would exist, and my troubles would become its troubles. I could love it as much as my mom loved me, but it wouldn’t wash off the bullshit it inherited from me,” she says and crosses her arms. “And I don’t know you. I have fantasies built up about what a great guy you are and how you called dibs on me because the universe whispered in your ear. And not because my fat lips made you think of blowjobs or that you wanted to tap my pussy before all your friends and family got a chance. So, I did the right thing by not seducing you, even if it wasn’t the smartest choice.”
Studying Monroe, I try to put myself in her place. Her earlier calm is slipping now. I see her get smaller as her gaze checks the door.
“I know you got a ride to work from Lisa Leigh, who doesn’t leave for a while. I’ll drive you home.”
“Why?”
“Getting to feel up my sexy body will help distract from your tough day.”
Monroe offers a small smile. Yet, on her face, I watch tonight’s reality hit her harder than Topanga’s hand. She walks past me and keeps moving until we’re in the parking lot. I take a moment to appreciate how she automatically knows my bike in a parking lot full of them. Nice to learn she wasn’t as oblivious to me as I sometimes sensed.
I slide on the bike and glance back at her. Monroe doesn’t join me with the ease of a woman accustomed to motorcycles. I add that little detail to the file in my head. One day, I plan to know everything about Monroe Hobbs, even if I have to pry the information out of her one fact at a time.
Once her arms wrap around my waist and her cheek rests against my back, I start the bike’s engine. Monroe doesn’t tense at the sound or tighten her grip. I take a minute to enjoy the feel of her against me. This moment’s been a long time coming. Too many nights, I had to talk myself out of offering her a ride that would end up with her on all fours in my bed.
Tonight, I pull the Harley out
of the parking lot and drive on the quiet roads of the only home I’ve ever known.
A block from the Woodlands’ security entrance is the small apartment building housing the bunnies. I park my bike out front, not really in a spot. Who’s going to give me a ticket in Elko?
Monroe climbs off, and I sense immediately how the last sliver of her confidence is about gone for the night.
“You can’t take Lowell’s shit personally,” I say as we stand at the entrance to the four-story, sixteen-unit apartment complex. “He’s not used to feeling on the spot. Topanga’s drama didn’t help.”
“Why wouldn’t he be bummed to find out about me?” she asks as the corners of her luscious lips get stuck downward. “I mean, when Bronco’s kid showed up, it was a baby with a bunch of possibilities. Lowell gets stuck with a club slut with no real future. I’d be disappointed, too.”
“Monroe,” I say, slipping my fingers under her chin and lifting her face so she’ll look into my eyes, “I know tonight left you feeling like the bottom of a shoe. You’re probably assuming the worst, no matter what the blood test shows. You might even be wondering if you ought to bail on Elko before you get hurt or embarrassed more. But I need you to promise you’ll stick around.”
“He doesn’t want me to be his kid,” she says as tears threaten her brown eyes. “I mean, I knew he wouldn’t be excited, but I guess I didn’t really let myself imagine how crushed he’d be at finding out. I feel as if leaving would be best for everyone.”
“Fuck that,” I say in barely more than a whisper. “You have friends here. I know you’re tight with Amity. And I’m here. Do you have that anywhere else?”
Monroe’s broken expression falls more. I’m just rubbing salt into her open wound. Earlier, she claimed her mother was missing. I ought to be more careful with my words.
“Fuck Lowell,” I say as my fingers linger on her chin. “If he doesn’t want you, that sucks for your heart, but you’re owed shit. You have his blood in your veins. He doesn’t have to like a surprise kid from his past. But his daughter deserves to have certain things. Don’t let him weasel out of what you’re owed like your mother did.”
“She might be wrong about who my father is. She was a bunny.”
“Look, she got pregnant while living here. If you’re not Lowell’s, you’ve got to be the daughter of one of those guys.”
“What if I’m your sister?” she asks, getting a little fire back in her dark eyes.
“Then, I’ll have to break my no-incest rule.”
Grinning now, Monroe no longer looks ready to cry. “Needy kept a journal, and she swore that Lowell was the guy she slept with during the time she got pregnant.”
“Don’t leave Elko,” I say, stroking her pouting bottom lip. “No matter what happens with the blood test. Even if you’re crushed at learning your dad wasn’t who you thought, I’ll make sure you’re okay. No seducing or baby-making necessary.”
“Why?”
“Because the universe whispered in my ear.”
Monroe offers a tender, appreciative smile. “I won’t leave without telling you first.”
I consider kissing her, but Monroe’s too vulnerable right now. I need her to cream her panties over me rather than feel indebted to me.
So I keep my lips off hers. We have time. I fully trust Monroe won’t run off despite her hurt feelings over Lowell’s reaction. As long as I get what I want in the end, I can be endlessly patient.
MONROE
I’m normally a pragmatic person who rarely expects anything good to happen. I only want a basic level of comfort. So, when my life takes a tumble into a pile of manure, I tend to shrug off the experience. Why wouldn’t I end up miserable? No one in my family is lucky. Aunt Immee has enjoyed an easier life than most of us, but she’s only special as long as she remains married to Clive. The minute he gets bored of her aging face, she’ll be as unremarkable as all the Hobbs women.
But I let myself hope when I thought about Lowell Sinema. Mom built him up as a strong, smart man with the ear of Elko’s most powerful person. Lowell seemed like Clive but without the evil shit. I wanted to believe a part of me was a Sinema.
Except I’m a Hobbs, through and through. We’re not lucky people. Admittedly, I’m better off than my mother and aunt were, and they are happier than their parents. The Hobbs women are slowly crawling our way up the evolutionary chain. Once we were mud people unable to hold down jobs or express love for the mutts we shit into the world. Now, we’re more like dumpster babies with the good looks to fuck our way into a stable home. If I have a kid, I wonder if he’ll go to college. How far can a Hobbs truly get in life?
Despite starting over fresh in Elko, I’m still a loser. That’s why I chickened out when I arrived here. And why I took the bunny job. After all, fucking men in my father’s club would be a great way to make a positive impression. When I finally admitted why I’m in Elko, my courage didn’t come from righteousness. No, I was pissed and embarrassed.
I made all the wrong decisions. Just like how I could have run away from Minton back when no one would have cared, but I waited until I’d get hunted down. I can’t do anything right. It’s just how I’m wired.
And that’s why I assume I’ll ruin things with Conor before they even get started. I told him the truth about my dumb plan to “baby mama” my way into a better life. Conor must think I’m a loser.
Not that I can read him well. I don’t think anyone does, really. Conor Jessup is usually a blank slate. Even when he smiles, I feel as if he’s holding back or working a con. He doesn’t let people close. I admire his ability to protect himself. If we had a kid together, I bet our boy would go to college and might even get a respectable job with one of those 401k things. That’s what I want for my spawn—a boring life devoid of danger or self-inflicted suffering.
“You don’t have to walk me inside,” I tell Conor despite knowing he’ll do what he wants.
“I ought to make sure you’re safe,” he says and takes my hand. “I’m a nice guy with good intentions.”
I hear the sarcasm in his words, but I don’t get their meaning. Conor is a nice guy. If he hadn’t decided he wanted to slip his dick in me first, I’d have been passed around by now.
Not that I was wholly against that part. Sex is fun, and even the older guys have qualities I can admire. But what happened if Lowell ever made a pass at me? No doubt, I’d puke in his face while crying out how he’s my daddy and needs to save me. Basically, without Conor calling dibs, I would have turned a train wreck into an apocalypse-level clusterfuck.
After typing in the security code, we enter the black-and-gray contemporary-style lobby. I tighten my grip on Conor’s hand. My heart demands to focus on something positive. Instead, my mind replays how grossed out Lowell looked by the very thought that he helped create the trash heap in front of him.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I admit to Conor in the elevator as we head to the second floor. “I came to Elko to meet Lowell, and I messed that up. Staying feels like a mistake.”
“You’re safe here.”
“No, not really,” I admit. “I have ties to this place. Sooner or later, the people looking for me will show up here. I’d be safer somewhere else. I should leave before trouble arrives in Elko.”
Conor leans his head back and sighs. “All sound logic, but I can’t leave with you yet.”
“Why would you ever leave?”
Leveling his green eyes at me, Conor says without a hint of sarcasm, “I’m a complicated man juggling many plans and just as many lies. I haven’t gotten around to dropping any of them yet. When I do, we can bail on Elko. Just not yet.”
“But you don’t even know me.”
“And you don’t know me. But if you had to choose any man to run off with, you’d pick me.”
“Yeah, because you’re one of the only single men in the club and the hottest. It’s really not rocket science.”
Conor shakes his head. “You had a rough night, and y
ou’re scared of your past showing up. That’s why you can’t see what I do. Which is okay. I’ll keep an eye on our future while you get your heart mended.”
I don’t respond because the doors open, and I spot Amity hurrying toward me. The brunette had the night off, meaning she’s running around the building in sleep shorts and an oversized man’s shirt. No doubt, she was apartment hopping before Conor’s motorcycle alerted the bunnies to my arrival. Oh, they’ll definitely want the dish.
Rather than walk to the elevator, Amity lingers near our door, waiting for me to finish up. I suspect she realizes Conor isn’t staying. Or maybe she plans to hang out at a different apartment if ours is a-rocking.
“Conor, thank you for driving me home and all the other more important stuff,” I say, enjoying the feel of his hand around mine. “I don’t know when the blood test will happen tomorrow. If you’re not busy, maybe we could go out for a sandwich. I’ll pay, of course.”
I know I sound stupid. Then, as if to prove that point, Conor leans his head back and sighs deeply.
“Finally,” he mutters as his foot holds open the elevator doors. “You finally get why I haven’t asked you out.” Conor holds my gaze and smiles softly. “I’m just really cheap. But now that you’re paying, I’m all in.”
Grinning, despite his ribbing, I feel heat slide across my cheeks. “I was trying to be gracious.”
“I know, but you’re not trash, Monroe,” he says in the same easy way he teased me earlier, making him impossible to read. “You need to demand more from Lowell and me. Everyone, really.”
“Fine, then, you can pay for our sandwiches.”
Conor’s grin widens. “Have the girls taken you to Harvie’s Sub Shop?” he asks, and I shake my head. “Lots of decadent choices. Loaded with meat. Great stuff if you’re looking to ruin your cholesterol.”
“Sounds like an average meal from where I grew up.”
Conor’s gaze flashes to Amity pretending to be casual down the hallway. He finally releases my hand.
“I’ll text you in the morning with the details on the test and our meal out.”
Frost (EEMC) Page 3
