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“I’m friends with the girls, too,” she says softly. Almost as if she regrets initiating this conversation.
I know I regret it.
“Do you lecture them about their husbands’ faithfulness too?” I ask.
Her eyes widen. “No. I’d never…”
Then why am I special?
Maybe I’ll never really fit in with “the girls.” Sure, Trinity had stayed at the hospital with us, and Hope helped us out with the cop. But those were favors to Dex.
Serena and I were friends before she met Grayson, but I can already see when baby Link isn’t occupying her time, how much the club has taken over her life.
I don’t fit in here, do I?
A familiar sense of being the outsider slides over me. It’s nothing new. I never fit in anywhere.
A biker in jeans, a T-shirt, and his Lost Kings MC vest wanders into the kitchen. A big smile flashes over his face when his gaze lands on Swan.
He hurries over and slides his arm over her shoulders. “There you are.”
She tips her head back and smiles at him. “Hey, Butcher.”
He whispers something in her ear, and she nods.
Ignoring them, I finish cleaning off the counter and plan my escape. Unfortunately, I accidentally make eye contact with the biker.
“Hey, red.”
“Oh, Emily, this is Butcher. He’s a member downstate,” Swan introduces.
“Emily. You’re Dex’s girl, right?” Butcher asks me.
Who told him that? Dex?
I open my mouth to answer but Swan beats me to it. “No, they broke up. She’s a free woman.”
The way she says free woman sounds more like open for business—which I absolutely am not.
Butcher takes new interest in me, running his gaze down my body in a long, slow eye-fondle. He’s attractive enough but his attention does nothing for me.
“That right?” he asks with a flirtatious smile. “You want to join us? We’re heading over to the clubhouse in a little bit to continue the party.”
“I’m supposed to help Serena clean up after everyone leaves.” I shrug helplessly even though I’d never accept his offer. “But thank you.”
“If you change your mind, let Swan know. She’ll hook you up.”
Not fucking likely.
“Later, Emily.” Swan slides off the stool and takes Butcher’s hand. The two of them leave the kitchen together.
“Whatever,” I mutter, replaying the entire strange interaction over in my head. Was she trying to test me? Or did she just want me to know she’d banged Dex at some point?
Tears prickle my eyes, but I force them away and scrub down the counter I’d been working on.
After I finish cleaning and putting everything away, I wander out of the kitchen. Loud, boisterous voices echo through the house and I follow the sound. Serena never returned to the kitchen, but I find her in the living room with everyone else.
I stand in the doorway watching the gathering for a few minutes. Libby’s sitting on the floor with Shelby, absolutely enthralled with whatever stories Shelby’s sharing. My lips twitch into a smile.
I’m in a house full of people but suddenly feel very alone.
Air. I need air.
I hurry toward the back door, slide it open, and step outside.
The cooler night air chases away some of the bad feelings warring inside of me. A cacophony of voices and happy chatter fades into the background.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Dex
In the basement of Grinder’s mega-house, he’s set up a workshop of sorts. Somehow, I got roped into joining him and a bunch of the other guys for a tour.
Anything to avoid stalking Emily. I had a damn hard time keeping my hands off of her when I found her in the kitchen earlier.
Grinder walks us through the maze of downstairs. Most of it is finished. The ceilings are high enough that it doesn’t feel like a basement. He talks about upgrades and things he wants to do with the heating and cooling system. Z has thoughts on some of it. Wrath’s got opinions on the water filtration system. Rooster suggests radiant heat flooring. Teller has opinions on, well, almost everything.
Maybe one day I’ll care about this shit. When the woman I want to share a house with comes to her senses.
But that’s not today.
I wander into an area Grinder must be planning to turn into a bar. Or maybe the last owners had it set up that way and Grinder’s tearing it down. Either way, there’s a waist-high dark wood counter running one length of the wall, with several bar stools lined up underneath it but nothing else.
I find Griff at the end of the bar, tapping away on his phone.
“Too much home improvement info for you?” I ask.
He jerks his head up and tucks his phone in his pocket.
“What’s up, Dex?” He slides off the stool and holds out his hand to me.
“What’s going on, brother?” I pull Griff in and slap his back. “It’s been a minute.”
“It has.” He squeezes my shoulder. “Good to see you.”
