Page 131 of Property of Bob

I looked back at the RV. It sat beneath one of the parking lot lights, old and running again. For the first time since I’d driven onto Skull Island, there was nothing physically keeping me here.

I turned back to Bob. “Yeah.”

His fingers tightened around mine. “Good.”

Bob didn’t let go of my hand, and I didn’t go back to the RV.

Chapter Twelve

Bob

I woke up with Ramona’s leg hooked over mine and her face buried against my shoulder.

There were worse ways to start a fucking day.

I stared at the ceiling for a few seconds, listening to her breathe while I tried to decide if I actually needed to get up. The answer was yes. The answer had been yes for at least ten minutes, but every time I thought about moving, Ramona shifted a little closer and gave me another reason to stay exactly where I was.

Last night had been good. Our new normal. Or as normal as anything could be when you lived on an island where somebody kept leaving dead bodies and fucked-up messages for your motorcycle club.

We’d ended up back at the clubhouse for dinner. People hung around afterward, drinking, talking, and giving Ramona shit about her RV. She gave it right back.

I liked watching her with everyone. She fit.

I hadn’t expected that. Hell, I hadn’t expected any of this.

A week ago, I was sitting in a hospital room wondering how long it would take before I could walk across a fucking room without feeling like I’d run ten miles. Now Ramona was sleeping beside me, my strength was coming back a little more every day, and I’d spent a good chunk of last night kissing a woman I’d once known as my best friend’s little sister.

Clint would probably punch me. I’d probably deserve it.

I’d still kiss her again.

That thought made me smile.

Ramona shifted against me and I looked down.

Her hair was all over the place, and one of her hands was curled against my chest. She’d fallen asleep like that after we’d spent way too long kissing and not nearly enough time sleeping.

Nothing else had happened. That didn’t mean I hadn’t thought about it.

A lot.

There was only so much a man could take with a woman pressed against him before his brain started making plans the rest of his body wasn’t ready to follow through on yet.

That was the shitty part.

I was getting better, but I wasn’t back to normal. Yesterday had been the first day I’d gone most of the day without using the wheelchair. By the time we’d gone to bed, I’d felt it. My legs were tired. My whole body was tired.

Didn’t stop me from kissing Ramona. I mean, I had priorities.

I carefully slid my arm out from beneath her. Ramona made a quiet noise and rolled toward my pillow.

I stopped until she settled. “Sorry, doll,” I whispered.

Her eyes stayed closed.

I sat on the edge of the bed for a few seconds before standing. I didn’t need to do that anymore, but I’d learned the hard way that jumping up too fast was a good way to have the whole fucking room tilt.

Nothing moved. Good enough.