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Gathering a bunch of things, enough for three meals a day for the next week, plus a couple large meals along with desserts to share with this new family of mine, I finally leave the store and head back to the clubhouse.
I don’t know how I’m going to keep all my food separate from all of the other food in the fridge, but on the other hand, I highly doubt that these people are making actual meals. They seem more the order takeout kind of crew.
Once I am back at the clubhouse, I pull the old pickup truck in front and shift it into park before I swing the door open and hop down. I’m too short to see inside of the truck bed, so I walk around the back and climb inside.
Thankfully, the groceries haven’t spilled from their bags all over the place. Gathering everything that I can carry, I walk toward the front door and slip inside. Keeping my head down, I try to navigate my way to the kitchen without being seen.
It doesn’t work.
A shadow appears in front of me, and I’m forced to stop. Tilting my head back, I look up to see that it’s Ironfist. His brows are raised as he looks down at me. Giving him a small smile, I try to sidestep him, but he doesn’t allow me to. Instead, he reaches out and slips the bags from my hands.
“How much more you got?” he asks.
Blinking, I look behind me as if I can see the pickup truck bed from where I am inside of the building. “About that same amount.”
He jerks his chin and someone around my age appears seemingly out of nowhere. It’s not Byron though, it’s someone that I don’t recognize. He is wearing a matching cut to the rest of the men, so I assume he’s one of them.
“Go and get the grocery bags out of the back of Riff’s truck and take them to the kitchen,” Ironfist demands.
The man doesn’t say anything, he just dips his chin, then turns and jogs out of the building. I look back at Ironfist standing in front of me and blink a couple of times. He gives me a wink, and turns his back to me, carrying my bags toward the kitchen.
I follow behind him, but pause as soon as I step into the kitchen. She’s there.Brianne. And she’s practically naked. Ironfist grunts, maybe that’s his warning, but if it is, she doesn’t listen to it. Instead, she takes a step toward me, her eyes focused on me and only me.
Brianne is only wearing a very small bikini-type top with two teeny tiny triangles barely covering her areolas. On the bottom, she’s wearing a pair of very small G-string thong panties, and on her feet, too high, high heels. As she makes her way toward me, she’s walking like a baby giraffe.
“You’re still here,” she announces with a smirk. “You won’t be for long.”
“Rules,” Ironfist growls. “Tanner is an old lady.”
Brianne doesn’t look like she’s been admonished. In fact, her lips curve up into a grin. She lets out a laugh and slides her tongue along her bottom lip. Sucking in a breath, she tilts her head to the side, then brushes past me, her shoulder clipping mine when she does.
She doesn’t walk out of the door immediately, instead, she turns and looks over her shoulder at me. “We’ll see which one is the last woman standing.”
I watch her walk out of the kitchen and I can’t help but wonder what exactly she thinks she has on me, but it wouldn’t matter, because girls are cruel. This is someone who is still stuck in a catty girl mentality. She wants what she wants, even if it isn’t hers to have. Even if he doesn’t want her back.
She’s going to try every trick in the book, and I have a feeling that I’m going to be enduring a whole lot of bullshit. I wonder if it’s worth it, if Riff is worth it. Ironfist clears his throat and I look over to him. He gives me a small smile, almost an apologetic one before he speaks.
“Riff wants you to call him. I’ll give you his number. He wanted to check on you earlier but realized he didn’t have your cell.”
I want this to be worth it with Riff. My heart slams against my chest at the idea that he’s thinking about me, that he wants to talk to me. That he’s checked on me. It gives me a bit of hope that I didn’t realize I really needed at this moment.
I want this to work, even though I’m scared, even though I halfway feel like I’ve made a mistake, I want him to prove me wrong—to prove Brent wrong.
