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Fuck, don’t go there!I scream in my head. “I know that was a one-time thing, wasn’t it?”
“No, yes. I don’t know. I didn’t come here to cause a rift between you and Jay,” she says, and sucks on her finger. My dick pulses and throbs against my zipper in response. I brush my sweaty palms on my jeans, hoping to calm my racing heart.
“Why did you come here then?”
She ignores my question and says, “Tell me more about you, Hunter,” taking me by surprise.
I pause. “You don’t want to know about my boring story.” Getting uncomfortable, I focus on the menu. Neither of us says anything for a moment, but she keeps staring at me.
I sigh, laying the menu down. “It’s not the greatest story in the world,” I grumble, my voice grim.
“It doesn’t matter. Whatever you want to tell me, I’ll listen.”
Groaning, I know I can’t ignore her. “Okay. I’ll admit, I did carry the damn bear around.”
“Thought so.” She takes another sip before she asks, “What was my dad like before?”
“Before what?”
She smiles. “Tell me about your life with him, Hunter.”
We order dinner and I tell her about Jay and the competitions we went to. About how he always carried a picture of her wherever we went, and the stories he told about her from when she was younger. It isn’t weird like I thought it was going to be, having fucked and all. Sometimes I catch her smiling like she can read my mind. After all, it was the hottest sex I’ve ever had in my life.
I ask her about herself, and I listen to every word she says. I can’t stop laughing when she tells me anecdotes about her running around New York at barely sixteen, and getting into clubs she legally shouldn’t have. About living in the city and her summers in the Hamptons. She doesn’t elaborate about a boyfriend or anything but I figure she must have had one back East at some point. It makes me jealous, even though I don’t have any claim to her, not yet anyway.
The conversation flows easily. She teases me, and doesn’t mind if I do the same.
She reaches out and points to the dog tags I always wear around my neck. “Are those your father’s?”
I nod, taking a sip from my drink. “His name is Oliver,” I murmur, reading the name on the tags: Oliver Cole. Shaking my head, I say, “He goes by Zombie now.”
“Zombie?” she rasps.
“Yeah, the name he got when he joined his brothers,” I tell her, raking both my hands through my hair.
“What do you mean?”
“His motorcycle gang of degenerates.”
She takes another bite from her hamburger. “Like Sons Of Anarchy or Mayans?”
I roll my eyes, snorting. “They’re actually called Devil’s Sons.”
“Devil’s Sons,” she whispers. “Sounds ominous.”
“Yeah, fucking Devil’s Sons. He’s the president of the club now. I never talk about my father, not even with Drew and Jay.”
“Dads aren’t easy to get along with,” she mutters.
I chuckle sarcastically. “My dad. He doesn’t even know what the word means.”
“What happened between you two?”
“How long have you got?” I ask, and she grins. “Fuck, I don’t know. Ever seen a war movie where a soldier can’t handle being back in the real world?”
She nods.
“How they couldn’t stand being home?”
