Bad For You - Sherilee Gray Page 0,9

hit the call button and held the phone to my ear. God, my hands were shaking.

I sat on my couch, then I stood again. I couldn’t sit still with my belly all flippy-floppy like it was.

The phone clicked like someone answered, followed by rustling sounds. “Yeah?”

My heart did an almighty thump behind my ribs, stealing my breath. That was not Jesse's voice. Nope. That was a woman.

An image of him in bed with the owner of that voice sliced through me. I wanted to throw my phone away like it was a poisonous snake.

“Hello?” the woman snapped.

I swallowed, audibly. I should just hang up, I wanted to hang up, but those pesky manners forced into me all my life would not allow it. There was also the fact that he might see my number in his recent calls list, and then he’d want to know why, which would mean an awkward phone call…well, another one. Because this was shaping up to be pretty hideous.

“Ah…sorry to disturb you, I was just… Is Jesse there?”

Silence. “Jesse?”

“Sorry, I mean Grifter.”

“I know who you mean. Who is this?”

Oh hell. “I’m a…a friend. Is he there?” I winced.

Another beat of silence. “He had to go out.”

No doubt for food after hours of vigorous sex. “Oh…okay. Just tell him Lila called.”

“Don’t call again,” the woman said.

“What?”

“Riff has his hands full right now.”

The with me echoed through my head. “I had no idea, I didn’t realize…”

“Well, you do now.”

The phone went dead, and I sat there frozen, numb. How could I have been so damn stupid?

I’d tried to deny the thoughts sneaking back in. But every time he messaged me, he was chipping away at my resolve.

That’s the real reason you called, wasn’t it? Because you wanted him to tell you he cared, that he’d made a mistake.

That he wanted you back.

How stupid, how gullible could I be? I’d actually—God, I’d started falling for him all over again.

You never got over him.

My eyes stung, and I gritted my teeth and fought back the tears. All those texts from him felt wrong now. Not sweet or funny, but sordid. Like I was some dirty little secret. Had he been lying beside her while he was messaging me? I hated that idea. Hated it.

You have no right to be jealous.

But I was. So much it hurt.

There was only one solution. I quickly deleted his texts and blocked his number.

Jesse Thomas didn’t exist to me, not anymore.

Chapter Four

Jesse

Two months later

The town hadn’t changed. Not that I’d expected it to.

I stood by my bike outside Rocktown Ink and took in the small shops, the people walking about. I’d been on the road for nearly three months. It felt like three years. And I still wasn’t home. There’d be another hour of riding before I got to sleep in my own bed.

I didn’t think I’d ever been this tired in my life. After dealing with Trip, I’d had to clean up the trail of destruction he’d left behind.

That shit had been messier than anyone thought it would be. But I’d done my job. Like I always did. I’d hunted down the rest of the Ramblers who’d betrayed us. They wouldn’t be a problem anymore.

Now all I wanted was a beer in front of my big-ass TV, on my own couch. And maybe a blow job before bed. Too bad I still only wanted one woman.

It was cooling down. I grabbed a jacket from the back of the bike, shrugged it on, and pulled Sofia’s out as well. I didn’t want her freezing her ass off on top of everything else.

Going by how cold it was, I guessed we only had a few weeks of riding left before it started snowing and I’d be forced to use the Bronco instead of my bike. Fuck, I hated winter.

I glanced up as the door to The Mule opened across the street.

A group of people walked out, said their goodbyes, and headed off down the street. A lone figure stayed, looking down at her phone.

I froze.

Lila.

My heart smacked against my rib cage.

Fuck, I’d thought about her every day. Every night.

Thinking about her gorgeous smile, her sweet scent, her soft lips. Those goddamn lips. She didn’t know it, but she’d gotten me through every shitty goddamn day.

I ate up the sight of her. The last couple of months I’d forced myself to stop texting her, convinced it was the only way to get over my obsession with this girl.

But seeing her now—I’d been full of shit.

I wasn’t