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“Uh, no.”
He levels a glare at me, almost like he’s daring me to defy him. “This was supposed to be an apology so I’m buying.”
Feeling brave, I lean up and kiss his cheek. “You really don’t have to do that.”
Questions spark in his eyes as he scans my face, and all I can think about is kissing him again. Even when I tell myself to think of something else, it always comes back to his full lips.
“Of course I do. I still feel really bad about Bear hurting you so I’m buying.”
“Storm,” I whisper, shaking my head, “you don’t need to apologize anymore for Bear. It was an accident. And you certainly don’t need to buy dinner for me as a peace offering.”
“Sweetheart,” he drawls, one corner of his mouth pulling up in an easy grin and sending tingles across my skin, “it’s not often I’m accused of being a gentleman so you might want to take advantage of my offer.”
I sigh, and my stomach chooses this exact moment to growl. When I peek up at him to see if he heard it, his victorious grin tells me all I need to know. “Well, all right then.”
He orders me to sit on the couch while he calls to order some pizza, and when he’s done, he sits down beside me, pulling my feet into his lap, and massaging them as we talk.
“How was your first day?” he asks, and I beam.
“Amazing,” I say before launching into a detailed description of my day. I tell him everything, excited to share my happiness with someone but about halfway through my story, I realize I’m rambling and stop. “I’m sorry. I’m sure it’s kind of boring.”
He shakes his head and reaches out, gently brushing his thumb over my cheek. “No. Please keep going.”
I study him for a moment but when I don’t see anything but sincerity, I decide to finish my story. I explain about the article, and then that leads to me having to explain about the three dates. He watches me as I talk, and I can tell that he’s really listening. He really cares about how my day was, and my heart warms at the gesture.
“And that was the day we met?” he asks, and I nod. “Shit. What a day.”
I laugh, nodding my head. “Yeah, it was certainly interesting.”
“Well, I’m sorry again for Bear.”
I give him a look, and he holds his hands up in surrender.
“So, you’ve never told me what you do,” I point out, and he nods, looking down at the foot he’s massaging.
“You ever heard of the Bayou Devils?” he asks, and when I shake my head, he sighs.
“So, it’s an MC…”
“An MC?” I ask, cutting him off.
“Yeah, a motorcycle club. A lot of clubs are involved in criminal activity, and the Devils used to be before I joined but shit started going down and our president, Blaze, decided to make some changes.”
“Do you even realize that you do that?” I ask, and his brow creases.
“What?”
Smirking, I shake my head. “You respond to my questions but you never really answer them.”
“I don’t do that,” he says, a stubborn expression crossing his face that does all sorts of things to my insides.
“Yes, you do. I asked you what you do and you told me you’re in an MC but I still don’t really know what you do all day. Like, how do you make money to buy things like apology pizza?”
He snorts, fighting back a smile as he peeks up at me. “The club has several businesses that we run. When Blaze decided to go legitimate, we needed a way to make money. He already had the motorcycle shop but then he decided to open a P.I. business and a bar as well.”
“And you just work at all of them?”
“Yep,” he says, nodding, “We all take turns working in each place.”
