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I took my time on the guest room though. I really went out of my way to scrub everything, getting all the grime out of all the nooks and crannies. I washed the windows, changed the sheets, and beat the dust out of the curtains. And when I was done, I stood back and cast a critical eye around the room.
“It’s not the Four Seasons but it’ll work,” I muttered.
I’ve been at it all day. I’m hot, sweaty, and tired. But before Hawk gets here, I want to take a shower and make myself presentable. Not because I’m going to hang out with him or anything—Hammerhead would never allow that. But on the off chance I run into him, I want to feel… I don’t know, nice. I want to look and smell good, not like someone who’s been on her hands and knees scrubbing away gross gunk all day. I grab my things then run down to the bathroom and jump in the shower. I wash quickly then get out, dry myself off, and get dressed.
I’m not allowed to have makeup, so I don’t have to worry about that, but as I stare at myself in the mirror, I frown at the tangled heap sitting on top of my head. It would be nice to do something with it, but I haven’t had it cut, let alone styled in years, so there really isn’t a whole lot I can do. I frown, then do what I always do with it and pull it back into a ponytail, then stare at my reflection again, turning this way and that. That only makes my frown deepen.
I’m never going to grace the pages of a Victoria’s Secret catalog or anything, but I know in my life before it all went to shit, I was considered pretty attractive. Sexy? I don’t know. But I like to think I’m cute. Sure.
But I don’t know that I’m hot enough to catch the eye of somebody like Hawk. I’m sure he’s got all kinds of gorgeous women hanging all over him and he probably wouldn’t be interested in somebody with all my baggage. But still, I like to imagine that I am.
I’ve just finished getting ready when I hear the rumble of the bikes rolling in. I dash out to the main room and peer through the window to see Hogwild, Deadbolt, Jammer, and Hawk roll up. But no Hammerhead. A smile curls my lips upward. I’m curious about where he is, but even more than that, I’m ecstatic that he’s not here. Looking around, I try to figure out something to do that won’t make it look like I’ve been sitting here waiting for them.
I turn and run to the bar and slip behind it. When the door opens and the men walk in, they find me polishing the top of the bar. I look up and pretend to be surprised to see them.
“Hey, fellas,” I say brightly. “How are you doing?”
They all mumble some form of good and I glance over at Hawk, feeling my cheeks flushing when his eyes linger on mine.
“Can I get you guys a beer?” I ask.
They all nod and say yes, so I grab four bottles out of the refrigerator and open them up one by one, setting them in front of the guys. I hand a bottle to Hawk and when he takes it from me, his fingers brush mine. I swear to God, I felt electricity crackling along my skin, making me jump in surprise. He looks at me with a roguish grin curling a corner of his mouth upward which only deepens the flush in my cheeks.
“Hey,” Hogwild starts. “Why don’t you make us some snacks or something?”
My eyes flash to Hawk before I turn back to Hogwild and nod. “Yeah, sure. No problem.”
He frowns and I see him cut a glance over at Hawk before he looks at me and tries to muster a semblance of a smile. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes though, which sends a finger of ice sliding down my spine. The last thing I need is for Hogwild to tell Hammerhead I was flirting with Hawk or something like that.
“Thanks,” he says.
I nod and lower my head before turning and heading out of the main room and into the kitchen. I lean against the counter and let out a long, shaky breath. That little smile of his nearly melted me and I can’t get it out of my head. I know I should. The last thing I should be thinking about is Hawk. But I can’t deny that electrical spark I felt when our fingers touched. I can’t deny the way his smile made me feel.
I clear my throat and try to get my head on straight. I need to get him out of my head. He’s forbidden fruit. I mean, not that he would necessarily be interested in me or anything but if he happened to be, I wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. He’s off-limits to me. It’s something I need to keep reminding myself of. But it’s hard. There’s just something about him that won’t let me stop thinking about him.
I had crushes on boys when I was in school, but I don’t have a ton of experience in matters of the heart or anything. Hawk makes me feel things I’ve never felt before. I buried it for so long because of my situation, and now I feel like a little girl with a crush. It’s stupid. I don’t even know what to do.
I mean, I know I can’t do anything with it. Not really. But knowing that doesn’t do anything to calm the chaotic emotions churning inside of me. I don’t even know if they’re real. I just know that I feel something whenever he’s around. It’s so strong, it nearly steals my breath every time.
What do you do when you have those kinds of insane feelings, but you have no way to express them? They’re going to come out somehow, someway. It’s just like the anger I feel for Hammerhead. Most of the time I can choke it down, ignore it, and pretend it doesn’t exist. But it builds up inside of me and eventually like a powder keg, all it takes is the smallest spark to set it off. It’s not a perfect analogy of course, but I’m afraid that at some point, those feelings are going to come bursting out—in front of Hammerhead—and I won’t be able to stop it. That, in turn, is going to create an absolute shitstorm that will come raining down on my head.
I hear the men out in the bar laughing and joking with each other. The atmosphere in the bar is always lighter when Hammerhead’s not around. People seem to feel like they can actually breathe and joke around with one another like normal, regular people. Hearing the sort of laughter I’m hearing right now is so rare that it comes as a surprise. A pleasant surprise. To be honest, I haven’t heard much laughter at all in a really long time. For a second I think something might be wrong. Like my ears are playing tricks on me. But sure enough, that’s what it is.
Laughter.
In the Howlers’ clubhouse.
Who’d have thought?
I give my head a shake and set about getting some things together they can snack on. I go to the freezer and look inside. There’s not much there other than a bag of pizza rolls that have been in there since like, before I was born. But, whatever. If Hammerhead and the guys can’t chip in to help keep the food stocked here, they’re welcome to go somewhere else and get their own food.
I turn on the oven and as it warms, I open the bag and put them on a cookie sheet. A couple of minutes later, I pop them into the oven and set a timer for half an hour. That done, I grab some plates from the stocking shelf—the now mostly empty stocking shelf, given what happened yesterday. I turn around again and see Hawk standing in the doorway, his hands deep in the pockets of his jeans and leaning against the door frame.
I’m so startled by seeing him standing there that I let out a shriek and drop the stack of plates. They hit the ground with a loud crash, spraying shards of glass everywhere. I look from Hawk to the broken plates all around my feet and sigh.
“You think we’ll ever get to a point where breaking dishes isn’t part of our normal greeting?” he asks with a smile.
I can’t help but laugh and shake my head. “I don’t know. I think it’s part of our thing now.”
