Rampage thought about Emily sitting on the bed this morning with her jaw set and her eyes clear sayingI said okaylike a woman who'd made a decision and intended to stand on it.
"Yeah," he said. "She'll be okay with it.” He paused. “And if she’s not I’ll make her okay with it.”
“So, it’s like that,” Irish said with a chuckle.
“Like what?” Lily asked.
“She’s his.” Blade explained.
“I could have told you that last night,” Savage added.
“Yeah,” Rampage confirmed. “She’s mine.”
Emily came downstairs around ten.
He could tell by the damp ends of her hair, pulled back now that she’d showered, and she'd borrowed something from the women's communal stash of spares that the club kept around, dark leggings and a soft gray hoodie that was slightly too big for her and made her look younger than she probably was. She came into the common room with her hands wrapped around her phone and stopped in the doorway, taking in the space in daylight.
Nicole was on the couch with Lily. Savage was at the table. Irish was on the floor with Clover across him, giving the dog belly rubs.
Emily looked at Irish and the dog.
"He's on your lap," she said.
"He's not on my lap," Irish said. "He's adjacent to my lap."
"That is a hundred-pound dog sitting on your legs."
"He's sittingnearmy legs."
"Irish," Lily said, "you are literally feeding him a piece of your toast right now."
"He was looking at me."
Emily laughed and it caught his attention. It was a real laugh, so full it filled the air around him with warmth. It did something to the room. Even Savage looked up.
She found a spot on the end of the couch near Nicole, tucked her feet under herself, and Clover immediately abandoned Irish, crossed the room, and put his entire head on her knee.
"Traitor," Irish said.
"He has good taste," Emily told him.
Rampage watched from the kitchen doorway.
He'd been watching her all morning in the careful, unobtrusive way he watched everything. He tracked her comfort level, the moments she tightened up, the moments she loosened. She was better than she'd been at four in the morning when the walls were thin enough to carry the sound of her not sleeping. Being around people was helping. Being aroundthesepeople specifically, which told him something about her. She was the kind of person who regulated by connection, he figured she was an extrovert. It clocked with her teaching yoga classes and personal training sessions. She liked being around people, which was good for him, since the Clubhouse was like Grand Central Station.
Nicole leaned over and said something quiet to her. Emily's expression shifted surprise, then something softer.
He needed to stop watching her from doorways and go do something useful.
He almost managed it.
"You're hovering," Savannah said from directly behind him, which meant he hadn't heard her come in, which was embarrassing.
"I'm standing in the kitchen about to refill my coffee."
"You're watching her like she might disappear if you look away." Savannah stepped up beside him, coffee in hand, completely unintimidated. "It's sweet."
"It's not sweet. It's tactical. I’m keeping her safe."
