Page 77 of The Price of Love

While I’d love for her to stay, I don’t want a bunch of gamblers drooling all over her. Plus, this isn’t her problem.

“It’d help me repay my bike repairs,” she adds.

Nails lifts an eyebrow in the unspoken we could use her.

“What’ll be the backlash?” I ask. “I mean…bringing a Steel Grace into our event.”

Shadow, who was leaning against me, shifts so our bodies are no longer touching. I glance at her face and see a mixture of hurt and anger.

Before I can respond, she says, “I should be going. I wouldn’t want you to get any backlash from me visiting your clubhouse.” I see the hurt in her eyes when she looks into mine. “Or your room.”

Nails backs toward the door. “Hey, I’m gonna step out and give you two some privacy.” She points over her shoulder. “I should tell Dimples what’s up. You can find me there.”

Before I can tell her it’s not necessary, Nails slips out.

“That’s not what I meant,” I say as soon as Nails is gone.

“Then what did you mean?” Shadow takes a step back. “I’m a Steel Grace. An enemy. It’s best I find this out now.”

I want to tell her she’s overreacting, but something tells me it’d be a mistake. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

Anger flashes in her eyes. “Then how did you mean it?”

“It’s complicated.”

She picks up her jacket from where she’d dropped it on my bed. “And that’s why we should stop this before it starts. I can ride home on my own. You need to stay and take care of business.” She slips on her jacket.

I step toward her and clench my fists hard at my side, so I don’t grab her and plead with her to stay.

She glances down at my clenched fists. Her eyes widen, and she steps back.

Oh, god. Did she think I was going to hit her? I lift my hands, palms out, and back up.

She watches me retreat. Her wary expression tells me she’s uncertain what I might do next.

“What did your ex do to you?” I say.

Shadow glares at me. “She never laid a hand on me.”

My eyes widen in shock. “Do you think I would?”

“I don’t know what to think, Storm.” She crosses her arms over her chest. Not in a defensive posture. Her hands aren’t shoved into her armpits; instead, they hold her elbows as if she’s hugging herself.

The gesture melts me, and I want to comfort her, but I can’t until she understands I’d never hurt her.

“That’s not who I am. Not who I’ve ever been. I’ve never laid a hand on anyone I’m dating.”

She studies me. “But you’ve laid a hand on someone else?”

I nod. “Sometimes things get heated in motorcycle clubs.”

“I’ve never seen a Steel Grace hit anyone.”

My shoulders slump. I can’t deny it, but she knows we aren’t like the Graces, so why bring it up now?

I weigh my response. “We’re a little thornier,” I say, going for humor.

It doesn’t work. She stares at me with a stony expression.