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"Why?"

"Because he's with June, and she's the only person in Millhaven who can make him blush."

Bree grins. "I like her. She seems really nice."

"She is. So's Margaret. You'll be good there."

"I hope so." She takes a deep breath. "I really need this to work."

"It will."

We walk back to my bike, and the moment she climbs on behind me and wraps her arms around my waist, I'm right back to being painfully hard. Her thighs press against my hips, her boobs against my back, and I grit my teeth and start the engine before I do something stupid like tell her exactly what she's doing to me.

The ride back to the Millhaven Inn is too short. I pull into the parking lot and kill the engine, and Bree climbs off reluctantly.

"Thank you," she says. "For everything."

"You gonna be okay the rest of the day?"

"Yeah. I think so. I need to buy some stuff. Clothes, toiletries, things like that, and I should probably eat something later."

I pull out my wallet and hand her two hundred-dollar bills.

She stares at them. "Angel, I can't…"

"Yes, you can. Consider it a loan if that makes you feel better. But you need clothes, and you need to eat, and I'm not letting you go without."

"I have money!"

"Not enough, I bet. And you're wearing my cut, which means you're mine to take care of. So, take the money."

She looks at the bills in my hand, then up at my face. "Yours to take care of?"

Shit. That came out more possessive than I meant it to.

"Yeah," I say anyway, because backing down now would be worse. "Mine."

"Yours," she says, taking the money. "Thank you."

"There's a thrift store two blocks that way." I point down the street. "And a pharmacy next to it. You need anything else, you call the clubhouse."

"I will."

I should leave. I should get back to the clubhouse before Phoenix sends someone looking for me. But I don't want to go.

"I'll check on you tonight," I say. "Around seven. Make sure you're settled."

"You don't have to…"

"I know."

She smiles, and those dimples destroy me again, but it’s not enough. I need more. "Okay. Seven."

I climb back on my bike and start the engine, watching her walk toward the motel entrance. She turns and waves before she goes inside, and I wait until the door closes behind her before I pull out of the parking lot.

My phone buzzes in my pocket.

I pull over a block away and check it.