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We headed toward the clubhouse.
“You’re good with it?”
“Sure. Why not. Food is food.”
“Not just that,” I said, pushing open the front door of the clubhouse. “Oh, wow. It’s tidy in here.”
“Clean-up crew,” Viper said. “What do you meannot just that?”
“I mean, we were both invited, you know? Not just me. Not just you. We were invited together.”
“And?” He went to the fridge and opened the door. He pulled out two cans of beer and handed me one.
I took it but didn’t open it. “Together.”
He frowned. “Why do you keep saying that word?”
“Because I know how you feel about togetherness. Aside from our genitals co-mingling, I don’t think you’re a fan of togetherness or coupley things.”
He choked on his sip of beer. “And you say I’m a poet.”
“Oh yeah, thanks for reminding me,” I said, switching gears. “How is it that you can oh-so-casually quote Lord Byron to me?”
“I’m a man with many interests,” he said blandly. “And you know, Icanread.”
“I know you can read. I just didn’t realize you could quote one of the greatest poets ever.”
“Impressed?”
“Kinda. But don’t distract me.”
“Why not? You distract me all the time.”
“By doing what?”
His gaze traveled down my legs. “What were we talking about?”
“I don’t think I care anymore.” I grinned. “Shower. Then pizza. Then…”
“Then?”
“You. Me. Cowboy boots.”
He pulled out his cell phone. “Say less.”
Sniggering, I cracked open the beer and took a sip. I ran up the stairs and headed to my room. I heard sounds of people having sex and throaty moans, but I paid them no mind.
I was living in a frat house. A biker frat house. But oddly enough, I liked it immensely. The trailer was lonely and I kept myself occupied so I didn’t have to spend a great deal of time there. But going to sleep at night, pulling the covers up to my chin, without even an animal to curl up next to me…
Murdering a cartel member and falling in with a motorcycle club might’ve just been the thing to prevent me from becoming a crazy ferret lady.
It was a deranged way of thinking, but there it was.
I bent over and grasped one of my cowboy boots and hopped around on one foot to pull it off. The other came next.
As much fun as I had toying with Viper by donning my daisy dukes, I didn’t plan on wearing them again. They weren’t that comfortable, but I’d felt like I had to prove a point; that I could wear what I wanted, when I wanted.
And Viper had fallen right into my feminine clutches. He might’ve thought the hallway interlude was his idea, but I had a sneaking feeling that if I’d been wearing jeans, he wouldn’t have felt the primal urge to mark me.
