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“Thank you.”
He clears his throat, then reaches for a box. “Back seat, hopefully they won’t fall.”
“Maybe I should sit in the middle and hold them?”
Instead of verbally answering me, he jerks his chin, then turns toward the door and carries a box out to his pickup truck. I grab a box and follow him. It doesn’t take us long to load everything up, but I do need to sit between them because one quick brake check, and they’re going to go flying.
“Do you know where we’re going?” I ask.
He hums as he turns the truck engine and shifts it into Reverse. “You gave me the address,” he says, although he sounds a little pissed off, but I’m not sure if he’s mad or just impatient.
When he speeds down the street, I realize it’s impatience. I start to ask him why he’s driving so erratically but decide against it. If I say something, he’ll snap at me. I know him, so I don’t say a word.
Stetson moves through town, out of town, and then takes a couple of county roads on what appears to be someone’s driveway, but they aren’t. I’ve never been this far out of town in my life. The pine trees that surround us make for creepy-as-hell shadows as the sun begins to set.
The truck comes to a stop. I’m so turned around I have no idea where we even are. I couldn’t find my way home at this point, even if I wanted to. Stetson lowers his window, and I watch as a man dressed much like King walks up to it. He doesn’t say anything immediately, then his gaze slides to mine in the back, and for whatever reason, his lips curve up into a grin.
“You the bakery girl?” he asks.
“I am. Here to deliver cupcakes,” I quip, giving him a big smile.
His grin turns into a smile, and he jerks his chin. “Straight ahead. Brick building. Knock on the door. Do not go anywhere else,” he says, his last sentence hard and harsh.
CHAPTER
FIVE
KING
My phone buzzes in my pocket. It’s a new text from the prospect, Wackie, who is guarding the front gate today.
WACKIE: YOUR BAKER IS HERE.
My tongue peeks out and slides across my bottom lip before I sink my teeth into the corner and let out a grunt. I know he’s let her into the compound, so I wait a few moments before I make my way outside the clubhouse. So I can show her where to set up her cupcakes and maybe where to sit on my dick.
I haven’t been able to get her out of my mind for days. Every fuck that I’ve had since I met her has been lackluster, and I’ve tried my hardest to make them exciting, but I’m not into it. No matter what or how I do any of it, it’s like watching paint dry, and it should not feel that way.
I’ve never felt this way before, never thought about a woman like this before, and I can’t stop. Every fucking minute of every goddamn day, this bitch has consumed me. I need to fuck her so I can get past her, get over her, whatever the fuck you want to call it.
Right now, it’s just a fantasy, so I need to make it a reality. That way, it won’t be a big deal anymore. That’s it. That’s what it is. Fucking her is a fantasy, and I need to get rid of that fantasy so I can go back to my regular life.
I reach for the front door of the clubhouse, tug it open, and step outside just as a pickup truck pulls up to the front. There is a man driving, and I can’t stop the initial rage that flows through me at the sight of him with her.
I have never wanted to pull a complete stranger out of a vehicle and beat the absolute shit out of him the way I want this man. He gets out of the truck but doesn’t immediately move to the back seat, where I can see her sitting in the middle of the bench surrounded by pink boxes.
“Got a cupcake delivery,” he announces.
I don’t see him with a single fucking cupcake in his hand. Instead, he stands in front of me like he expects me to say or do something for him. Crossing my arms over my chest, I tilt my head to the side and stare at him. I’m not sure what he wants from me, but I’ll wait.
He stares at me wordlessly in a silent challenge. I don’t have the time for jackasses like him, so I chuckle, and I shake my head once before I step around him and head toward the back of the truck.
Opening the door, I look around the stack of bakery boxes to find her sitting in the middle.
“You need some help, babe?” I ask.
She turns to me, her eyes wide and so fucking innocent, sweet perfection. “I would love some help,” she whispers. “But you don’t have to. I can get out now that the door is open. I can just crawl.”
I imagine her crawling for a brief moment, but in my vision, she’s completely fucking naked and crawling toward me. Clearing my throat, I shake the thought from my head.
