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“You sure?” he grunts.
“Our brother is done living with this,” I tell him.
TWENTY-ONE
I Don’t Date
THUNDER
There’s a lot I do for my brothers, but this is a new one for me. Hammer and I must have drawn the short straw, because here we are outside a florist shop picking up pink fucking roses and centerpieces for the elaborate party Priest is throwing, with the help of the Lady Pride, so that he can celebrate his engagement to his woman, Quinn, in style.
I’m happy as hell for him, but I’d rather be doing the liquor run. Priest is going to ask Quinn to marry him, again, at the clubhouse. It seems that once wasn’t enough for Priest to hear her say yes, and between Willow and Vi, the place looks more like a gala banquet than a guys’ hangout. He wants his family there to celebrate. We already know Quinn is head over heels in love with Priest and this is just an excuse for all of us to come together. Those two belong together. Priest also arranged to have Quinn’s family come out for the affair. For a kid who came from such a messed-up home, Priest finally has the family he deserves.
Hammer and I get out of the club’s truck—apparently, we’re going to be filling the back with flowers—and walk up to the store called Petals. The place looks like something out of a fairy-tale book. Loads of flowers are expected, but it’s filled with twinkle lights and sparkles. I could just see Vi’s daughter, Gabby, go apeshit in this place. That little girl is such a girly girl, and if she grows up as pretty as her mother, Orion’s going to need to get her a personal bodyguard to hold the boys back.
The bell chimes over the door as we move inside.
“Be right there,” a soft voice says from the back room. Something about the voice sounds familiar. Really familiar, eerily so. A moment later, a woman emerges from the back, and it’s like a heavy weight lands on my chest, knocking the wind out of me. She’s a dark brunette with chocolate-brown eyes, olive skin, and a body that any man would walk through fire for. Fate is a fickle bitch as I come face-to-face with a woman I thought I’d never see again.
Rose Marie Mariner, the sister of my ex-girlfriend. The ex who tore my heart to shreds, stomped on it, and left me, never to be seen again.
I’m not the only one in shock. Rose takes a step back when she sees me, her gaze flickering from me to Hammer, then back my way. Her gasp is audible as she covers her mouth with her hand.
“Didn’t mean to scare you, beautiful. We’re here to pick up the order for Priest. He ordered a bunch of flowers,” Hammer says, breaking the silence and flashing his boy-next-door smile her way. Rose apparently realizes that Hammer has no idea we have history and takes a breath.
“Sorry, I’m not usually so jumpy,” she murmurs.
“This is Thunder. He looks mean, but once you get to know him, he’s not all that bad.” Hammer is flirting with Rose. This irks me. A lot!
Rose was the sweet sister. Clarissa was spicy. I fucking loved spicy over sweet. With Clarissa, everything was intense. She fucked hard, played hard, and lived life on the edge. She was passionate. Unfortunately, she was also cruel as fuck. You were only worth her time when it was convenient for her. When she needed money for clothes, or at least I thought it was for clothes, I gave it to her, only to find out she was buying cocaine and was an addict. I fell in love with her, or I thought I did. Maybe I just felt responsible that I was feeding her habit. By the time I figured it out, I felt used.
Still, I begged her to stop and offered to pay for rehab. Instead, she fucked me stupid, waited for me to fall asleep, took all the cash out of my wallet, and disappeared. Never saw Clarissa again. I went searching, partially because I was worried, but also because she fucked me over and I wasn’t cool with that. When I said a lot of shit to her parents, Rose looked on from the other room, silently crying. I never saw any of them again.
That’s when I decided that relationships don’t work for me. I don’t date. I fuck, and I fuck hard and fast. I make sure all the women know the score and that the time we spend together is enjoyable for both. I’ve never had any complaints. I love women and I like sex. I don’t make excuses for who I am.
Rose grew up to be beautiful in every way, a dark beauty with eyes that shine brightly. Her lips are full and luscious, her cheekbones high, and her hair hangs down in one long braid. When I do a full-body scan, I can see that she has full breasts and hips. Her hourglass figure reminds me of an old-time Hollywood goddess. Clarissa was the exact opposite, blonde, with blue eyes and a feisty nature.
“If you’ll give me a minute, I’ll grab the boxes from the back,” she says, quickly disappearing to the back room. Fuck me, even her voice is low and sultry.
“I’m happy to help you,” Hammer says, but she’s already gone.
I look Hammer right in the eyes and say, “She’s off-limits.” Hammer looks stunned. I’m not asking him to back off. I’m telling him.
We can hear her shuffling about, then she comes out a few minutes later with a box, leaves, and returns with another, then with a massive bouquet of long-stemmed pink roses in a crystal vase wrapped in cellophane. “They’re already paid for. If you want to take these boxes out to your car, I’ll put these roses”—she holds up the vase—“in a box to secure them better.”
“That’ll be good.” I finally speak and motion for Hammer to make himself scarce. He picks up a box and takes it out to the truck. She hasn’t given me a second glance, instead turning her attention to the flowers and making them perfect before she hands them over.
“Are you going to pretend you don’t know me?” I ask, taking a step closer to her.
She lifts her head and eyes me cautiously. “It seemed to me that you didn’t want your friend to know we had met,” she replies, then goes back to what she was doing.
“How’s Clarissa?” I ask snidely. I know I shouldn’t be taking it out on her, but I can’t seem to help myself.
“Clarissa passed away six months after I last saw you,” she says dryly.
Now I feel like a shit! As much as I hated what Clarissa did, I wouldn’t want that for her or her family. “I’m—”
“Don’t say you’re sorry. You shouldn’t be sorry. She was terrible to you. She treated you badly and didn’t warrant your pity. You should know that what she did to you, she did to all of us. My parents fought like hell to turn things around for her, but Clarissa never listened and wanted to live life on her terms. We weren’t close, and I found out the hard way that she was only nice to me when she wanted something, but I wanted a sister so bad that I let her use me.” She finally looks directly at me. “I just opened this shop a few months ago. People here are lovely. I’m hoping to be the florist of choice for the area. I don’t want to have a problem with you, Michael.” No one has called me by my name in years. Coming out of her mouth, it sounds nice.
