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At least once.
Maybe twice.
“Was there a fuckin’ point where you thought I wasn’t?” he barked at Whip. He closed his eyes and ground out a, “Fuck.”
He took a deep breath, then a second. When he opened his eyes, he expected Reilly to have gone back to her office. Expected her to get far away from him since he was acting like a miserable prick.
But he was having a hard time concentrating on anything but that name and phone number in the center of the wad of paper.
He was surprised she still stood there. But then, nobody was more stubborn than Reilly.
Okay, maybe her older sister Reese. He didn’t know how Deacon put up with her, even as hot as she was. But the man was happy. Reese must be hella hot in bed for the man to deal with that battle axe.
But it wasn’t Reese standing before him. Instead, it was Reilly, whose hand automatically went up to pull her blonde hair forward to cover the scar on her temple. She did it all the time without thinking. No matter how often she was told that the scar didn’t take away from her looks, she still self-consciously tried to cover it.
He reached up to snag her wrist and pull her hand away. Once he released it, she dropped it to her side. She blinked her big fucking green eyes up at him in surprise when he tucked the strand of hair she’d been pulling at behind her ear, instead, totally exposing the still slightly pink line along her right temple from her forehead to the top of her cheekbone.
“Sorry,” he whispered. He was sorry for being such a dick when she didn’t deserve it.
It was more than that. He was also sorry that her asshole boyfriend had bashed her head open with some kind of fucking knickknack leaving that scar while trying to kill her.
Reilly blinked once, twice, then whispered, “What?”
Normally, he would smile at her shock at him apologizing but he just couldn’t drum one up. Not right now.
No, right now his head hurt, and he needed to go outside to clear it. And to get away from all of the curious eyes turned their way. Not only from how he acted but by what was currently happening between him and Reilly.
Reilly was an untouchable. Totally off-limits. To him. To anyone and everyone with a dick in the club. He had no fucking clue why, since she was an adult and certainly not a virgin. Even so, she’d been put on the no-fly list for all the Fury members.
He guessed if he didn’t wear a Fury cut, he could get away with sliding between her thighs. But he did, so he couldn’t.
It was just one of the rules the guys followed to keep in good standing in the MC. As much as he hated rules, this was one he did his best not to break.
However, Reilly was distracting him from what he really needed to do. It wasn’t finishing the oil change. It was to go outside where he had some privacy and call the name and number back. To find out why the fuck this person felt the need to hunt him down and turn his life upside down in the process.
To bring everything he’d buried deep back to the surface.
To stir up memories he and his sister Saylor had done their best to forget.
Maybe he should just toss the wadded-up note into the trash and go back to living his life. Simply ignore it and tell Reilly to never take a message from that person again. But if he told her that, she would want to know why. The woman had a way of digging you didn’t realize was actually digging until it was too late.
She was a goddamn pro at it.
She should’ve been a lawyer just like her sister. In fact, Reese would probably love that for her, instead of her sitting in the office of a garage in Manning Grove surrounded by horny bikers who wanted to do dirty things to her baby sister.
He sighed and realized she was still standing there watching him, a concerned look on her face.
He needed to get the fuck away from her. He strode over to his toolbox, snagged his cell phone and didn’t stop moving until he was out the back door, in the warm mid-April weather and staring sightlessly out over the boneyard.
He took a breath.
And another.
He went over to the picnic table they sat at during lunch or to burn a fatty and settled on the wood bench facing the storage yard, keeping his back to the building. He dug into his open coveralls and into the front pocket of his jeans, pulled out his metal pipe and an old prescription bottle full of bud. He had tossed the pink paper ball onto the table and occasionally took a peek at it while he packed the premium bud tightly into the bowl.
