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Rubble shrugged. “Can’t really remember a time I didn’t have one form of scruff or another. In the Marines, I had to be clean cut. At least until we were deployed. Nobody gave a shit about that when we were knee deep in sand.”
Isa watched his smile droop. “Do you miss the action?”
“No.” He pulled out a chair for her. “I’ve found a brotherhood with the club like I had in the Marines. More so even. Macha was there when I returned. They didn’t give me grief for not having any professional skills. They accepted me as I am. I can’t say many other jobs would.”
“I’ve never thought of that. It must’ve been hard adjusting to civilian life again.” She took a sip of water, ensuring her eyes never left his face. The club’s sergeant at arms was much more than mere muscle.
“It was. Still is, depending on where I go.”
“I’m sure it also affected your relationships. Have you ever been in one?”
Rubble met her curious gaze. “Why the sudden interest, Isa?” He jutted his chin toward the living room. “Doc here not giving you proper attention?”
The blood drained from her face. “Oh no, that’s not what I meant. I, um, well, I really just—”
“Calm down. I was teasing.” He patted her hand. “To answer your question, not too many women approach me. Evidently I give off a tough vibe.” He outstretched his large hands. “I wonder what it is.”
She opened her mouth to respond, but he waved her off.
“I don’t do relationships. Never had much luck in them. It’s part of the reason I joined the Marines. My parents were shitty, and I was bounced around foster homes until I aged out of the system.” He took a breath. “I’ve never been good with women. No offense, but y’all are hard to read. Battle plans, though. Those are natural to me.”
“I admit, we women can be difficult.” She offered him a small smile. “But you can’t avoid women because you don’t understand us.”
He took a sip of beer. “Watch me.”
Isa rolled her eyes. It was like talking to a brick wall. She’d heard a prospect mention Rubble’s previous stint in MMA, where he’d earned his nickname. That was a story she’d like to hear, but for tonight, she was content merely gaining a new friend, albeit not a close one.
Dinner was served, and she couldn’t help but notice Doc stayed at the other end of the table. Boulder sat to her left, and she instantly felt small between the two men.In between a rock and a hard place.She giggled to herself.
She did her damnedest to not look Doc’s direction. It would’ve been easier if the slutty nymphs didn’t chortle every two minutes at something witty the lout said. The flirting was one thing. Ignoring her was what set her off.
“He’s a dick sometimes,” Rubble said under his breath.
Isa looked over to Doc, and for a split second, their eyes connected. “Yeah, definitely an eejit.” She focused on her apple crisp. “Do club members always utilize the nymphs when it suits them or just him?”
Rubble’s eyes grazed over her. “The goddess Macha was a warrior. Legend tells she was also very sensual. The club tends to merge these two when it comes to the nymphs. Before you arrived, Doc was rarely without a nymph or two at his side.”
“Lovely.” She picked at the apples in the bowl. No matter what transpired between her and Doc, he’d always return to his playboy ways.Any sort of future with him will be the same.Tears sprang to her eyes, and she stood abruptly. Suddenly, not even cinnamon apples could settle her nerves.
She hurried from the room, grateful no one tried to stop her. Reaching the dual staircase, she took the steps two at a time until she made the top. She promptly sat on the step and massaged her head. “This would be so much easier if I didn’t sleep with him.”
“Ah, now don’t go back on your own advice.”
Isa whipped her head up to see Rubble standing a few stairs down. “What?”
He easily ate the distance with his long legs and plopped next to her. “You can’t avoid Doc because you don’t understand him.”
She let out a disgruntled huff. “There’s nothing to understand. He prefers a different woman every night. Seems rather cut-and-dried.”
Rubble sighed and laced his fingers together over his knees. “He’s scared too. You’re a first for him.”
“First what? Irish lass?”
“Nah, I’m sure—er, that’s not what I meant.” He gave her a sheepish grin. “You’re the first woman to give him a hard time. You don’t fall at his feet and beg him to kiss you.”
“In my dreams I do,” she mumbled.
“Huh?”
