suddenly seemed...fascinating, somehow. They drew my attention to the muscles there, to the tanned skin beneath the ink. Made me wonder what the rest of that skin looked like...
God, he was tall. And broad. I’d noticed that once, back when I was sixteen and crushing on him like crazy. Even at eighteen he’d been muscular and lean hipped, like a panther. Now, at thirty, he’d filled out, the cotton of his T-shirt stretching over his chest.
‘Cat.’ His voice had gone low and husky. ‘Are you checking me out?’
You are. You’re totally checking him out.
The blaze in my cheeks felt like a supernova. I should have looked him in the eye and brazened it out, but I couldn’t make myself do it. Avoiding his gaze would tell him more or less the same thing of course, but it was way less confrontational. And I’d had too much confrontation tonight as it was.
‘No, of course I’m not,’ I snapped and turned on my heel, heading to the kitchen. ‘I’m going to get a damn beer.’
Plus some space while I was at it.
In the kitchen, I pulled open the fridge and grabbed myself a can, popping the tab and taking a long, deep swallow to cool myself down.
I had no idea what the hell was going on with me. No idea why I was suddenly checking out my best friend like I hadn’t had sex in years.
That’s the problem. You haven’t had sex in years.
I scowled at the cracked paint of the kitchen wall. That was unfortunately true. I hadn’t. But men were such bastards and I’d had enough. I certainly had after Justin.
He’d started out so great—just the kind of guy I was after. A lawyer earning good money, on the straight and narrow. Definitely not a drug user or a criminal, like the people my dad used to associate with. In fact Justin was as far from that as it was possible to get—which was why I’d fallen for him like the proverbial ton of bricks.
It wasn’t until I was pregnant and things weren’t going so well at his firm that the cracks in his good-boy facade had started to show. He’d always had a problem with anger, and when he got angry he lashed out. At me.
The first time he hit me I was so shocked I didn’t know what to do. He cried and told me he was sorry, that he’d never do it again. So I forgave him. It didn’t happen again until after Annie was born. Then he did it again. And again. Three times I put up with it. The fourth he nearly knocked me out.
So I left him.
Good boys were overrated... Bad boys were just like my dad. And since there was nothing in between, I took nothing. It was easier—better for me and better for Annie. After all, between her and my two jobs—the call centre during the day and Lucky’s, the bar I worked at some nights—I didn’t have time for men anyway.
I didn’t miss them. Sex with Justin had been pretty average—certainly no better than what I could get with my own imagination and a decent vibrator. At least I was in charge of my own orgasms, which I found very satisfying.
So why were you looking at Smoke?
That was the one question I couldn’t answer, though I wished I could. Because that was the very last thing I needed in my life right now.
‘You gonna tell me what’s going on?’
I turned sharply, my heart giving the stupidest jump at the sound of Smoke’s voice.
He was standing in the kitchen doorway, one shoulder hitched up against the frame, his arms folded. His black eyes had narrowed. I’d never found that look threatening—not once. But I did now. Not because he was going to hurt me—I knew Smoke would never do that—but because he knew me. He knew that something was bothering me.
And if you’re not careful he’ll guess what that something is.
Shit. He would, too.
Trying for calm, I took a swig of my beer, the cold liquid putting out the strange fire burning in my veins. ‘Nothing’s going on,’ I said. ‘It’s just been a hell of a night, what with Annie and—’
‘And watching your best friend get blown?’
‘Jesus, Smoke.’ This time I managed to look him in the eye. ‘How many times do you want to keep saying that?’
‘I don’t know. Until you stop acting weird?’
‘I’m not acting weird. Okay, it was disconcerting, but I’m a big girl. I know what you guys get up to in the clubrooms. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.’
But his narrow black stare didn’t budge. Like he was seeing things in me that I didn’t know were there. It was unsettling.
‘And what about you checking me out?’
‘I wasn’t checking you out! You’re my friend. You’re like my damn brother. Which means if I was looking at you like that, I’d be pretty damn sick. Don’t you think?’
He didn’t say a word. Just kept staring at me. And I could hear the echo of my voice bouncing off the walls, high and sharp and vehement. Too vehement.
I was incriminating myself with every word I spoke.
Man, could this night get any worse?
I turned away, running a hand through my hair. ‘You know what? I’m exhausted and I need to go to bed. So let’s talk about this later.’
For a second I didn’t think he was going to say anything, that he was going to keep standing there staring at me all night. But then he said, ‘Yeah, okay. You do look tired. But, Cat?’
I glanced at him. ‘What?’
Something glittered in his black eyes that made my heart race fast and hard. ‘We will talk about this later—get me?’
I swallowed and lifted a shoulder like I didn’t give a shit. ‘Sure.’
He sighed, his arms dropping to his sides, and pushed away from the doorframe. ‘I’ll handle that prick Justin, too, okay?’
‘Yeah...’ I let out a silent breath. ‘Thanks for getting Annie, Smoke. I mean... Just thanks.’
They were paltry words for what he’d done, but I didn’t have any other way to thank him. He’d know how much I meant them, though.
He smiled and, like always, it made me feel warm inside. Made me feel really good. Like the sun had come out to sit on my shoulder.
‘Anytime, kitten. Anytime.’
Smoke
‘HEY, PREZ. YOU got a minute?’ I stood aside as one of the club hang-arounds, a brunette called Bella, sidled out of Keep’s office, tugging down her skirt and doing nothing to hide the satisfied look on her face.
Keep himself was sitting at his desk, his hands loosely linked behind his head, looking extremely fucking satisfied himself. I guess there’s nothing like a lunchtime screw when there isn’t much else going on.
He grinned, lifting his chin at the chair opposite the desk. ‘Sure. Take a seat.’
I came in and sat down, leaning my elbows on my knees.
I didn’t like to ask favours of people since I hated being in debt—another thing that made me different from my old man—but Keep was different. He was my uncle, Dad’s younger brother, and the man who’d protected me when he could. He’d also been the one to introduce me to the Knights, becoming president not long after I patched in.
Being in debt to Keep was okay. He was a brother; he was my president, and he had my back. He had everyone’s back. That was why they called him Keep. Because he kept what was his and he didn’t let it go.
He