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“Wait, what? Why is she here?” Dex asks.
Jigsaw shrugs. “Is she not supposed to be? She was hanging with those two weird chicks. Sleepy and Creepy.”
“Jesus Christ, please don’t say that to their faces,” Dex groans.
“Nah, I just keep asking Sleepy to repeat herself.” He cups one hand over his ear. “Huh, what was that? Speak up, missy,” he demonstrates, then flashes a wicked grin. “She fuckin’ hates me already.”
“Great, just what I need,” Dex grumbles. “Did it ever occur to you she might actually have a problem with her voice?” Dex traces his fingers over his throat. “Not everything is about you.”
Jigsaw’s playful smile fades and he jams his hands in his pockets. “No, I didn’t ask.” His moment of reflection only lasts a minute, before he lifts his head and pins us with what I think is a serious expression. “Did it ever occur to you that, even though I’m a strapping young lad brimming with testosterone, I might have an issue with my hearing? Huh? Maybe her whispery bullshit is hard for me to make out?”
Dex’s jaw drops and for a second he doesn’t seem to know what to say. “Okay. What else?”
Jigsaw slams his fist into his open palm. “Bricks and I threw a dude out for gettin’ handsy with Kayla.”
“Thanks.” Dex shifts forward on the couch, still holding me tight. “She all right?”
“I think so.” He shrugs. “She’s sittin’ in the back waiting for her next turn on stage.”
I lean in and kiss Dex’s cheek, then slide out of his lap, landing on the cushion next to him. “I know you need to get back to work.”
“I’m happy to keep you company,” Jigsaw offers.
“The fuck you will,” Dex growls.
Jigsaw touches his chest and pouts. This big, scarred, scary biker actually pouts. Lord, he should’ve been an actor. “I’m hurt, Dixon. Truly hurt.”
“Fuck off.” Dex turns toward me, ignoring his brother. “You can wait in here. Or I’ll walk you out to your car?”
I glance at the clock over the filing cabinet. “I can stay for about another hour. Then I need to get Libby.”
“All right.”
“I’ll see you out there.” Jigsaw waves to us, then leaves, closing the door behind him.
“Sorry if I made things awkward for you,” I say, standing and stretching.
Dex captures me around the waist, hauling me back into his lap. “Never. I love that you came to visit me. Think about you all the time when I’m here.”
Any lingering uncertainty melts.
“Although,” he adds, “I prefer the way you dressed the first time you visited.” He lightly closes his hand around my throat, forcing me to lift my chin. “Blouse up to here. Pants.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I whisper.
He releases me and I rest my hands on his shoulders, staring into his eyes. “Did they really tease you about the hickeys?”
“Sure. We’re always busting each other’s balls about something.” He shrugs. “I don’t care.”
“And?” I jerk my thumb over my shoulder toward the wall. “Everyone overhearing us?”
“Again, I don’t care. And I highly doubt it’s true. Maybe Sandra who’s right on the other side could’ve heard something but it’s so damn noisy all over the place, I doubt it.”
“So, they wanted to mess with you.” I pause, frowning. “And me a little? See if I can handle it or if I’ll get mad?”
“Exactly.” He nods. “I wish I had a more reasonable, mature explanation for you, but I don’t. All the brothers like hazing the ol’ ladies once they know we’re serious.”
“Oh.” I cup his cheek and slide my fingers into his hair. He leans into my touch, closing his eyes for a second. “Your club knows we’re serious?”
“Yes.” He flicks his gaze up. “Does that bother you?”
“No.”
“Good.” His hands squeeze my butt and he sighs. “I really do need to—”
“I know.” I jump out of his lap. “I’m good. Do what you need to do.”
“You can stay in here. Or check things out. I’d stay out of the dressing room, and I wouldn’t go out onto the main floor by yourself.”
That doesn’t leave me with a lot of options. “Got it.”
“Bricks is by the back door.” He taps his leather vest. “A lot of brothers are here tonight. Oh, Remy’s here, you know him.”
“The poor guy I yelled at because I thought he was flirting with my sister?” Remy had been doing a favor for Grayson, helping him do some landscaping at my house, but when I caught him talking to Libby I almost lost it. The fact that he has a younger sister close to Libby’s age finally convinced me he could be trusted.
“He’s not holding a grudge, trust me,” Dex says with laughter in his voice. “But if anyone hassles you—dancer, customer, delivery boy—anyone at all, go tell one of the guys. Most of them know who you are but if not, just tell them you’re my girl.”
