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Guess I thought wrong.
Still holding on, I stayed seated even after he parked. Even when he killed the engine and sat up, my arms still held tight.
I don’t know what I expected, but when he lightly patted my hands, I finally released him and got off the bike.
Looking around the garage, I saw several fancy cars and a few high-powered ones that I itched to drive. When he removed his helmet, I tried to brace myself at finally seeing him again after these last few years, but nothing could have prepared me for the raging fire burning deep in his eyes.
Oh yeah.
Anger rolled off him in waves.
Gulping, I asked, “Where are we?”
“My house.”
Okay, that was something I didn’t know about him. I thought he lived in the clubhouse. He was the president of the club, for crying out loud. Never pegged Montana for fancy digs. It just wasn’t him. As a simple country girl, I felt more comfortable at the clubhouse than I would in some fancy place like this. I didn’t even need to see the inside of this place to know I didn’t belong. The cars alone told me that. I could work my entire life and never be able to afford anything like this.
I didn’t know what game Montana was playing, but I didn’t like it.
“Follow,” he ordered.
Not asked.
Ordered, as if I were some dog he owned.
Shaking my head, I stood firm. “No. I want to leave.”
He stared menacingly. “Wasn’t a choice.”
“Have you forgotten? I always have a choice.”
“Not anymore,” he growled, grabbing my wrist again, yanking me towards a door.
“Damn it, Montana, let me go!” I shouted angrily, trying to break his hold. But like everything else about him, his grip was impenetrable.
Pulling me up a flight of stairs, he finally let go when we entered the kitchen. An enormous, bright and expensive kitchen. A kitchen that I’d only seen on TV and belonging to the rich and famous. I don’t know why I did it. Maybe it was because of the way my momma raised me, but seeing the sparkling white floors, I quickly kicked off my shoes, not wanting to track dirt across them.
“Thank you, my dear,” an older woman with a kind smile said, walking over to me. “I’m Mrs. Alice and you must be Ms. Tessa.”
“Yes, ma’am. It’s nice to meet you.”
The women beamed. “Oh, she’s darling Montana, and manners, too.”
Montana huffed, ignoring the sweet older woman as he headed for the fridge and grabbed two bottles of water, throwing me one.
I quickly caught it and whispered, “Thank you.”
“Everything ready?” Montana asked.
“Yes.”
“Then that will be all, Mrs. Alice. Good night.”
“Good night, my dears,” the woman said quickly, before leaving me alone with him.
Too afraid to move, I watched as he leaned against the kitchen counter, never taking his eyes off me. I felt as if I was under a microscope. I did not know why I was here or what he wanted. Okay, I knew why, but I refused to think about that because if I did, then I would have to explain why I never told him I kept his son from him. Nope, that was a question I didn’t want to answer. Not because I couldn’t but because it would mean opening old wounds that I longed to be buried.
Looking about the spacious kitchen, I thought it odd that he seemed out of place, but as if he belonged.
