to flinch. “I’m sorry! Did I hurt you?” I asked and reached out to pull him closer.
He laughed and shook his head. “No, you didn’t hurt me. Other than my pride.” He paused for a moment and cast his eyes toward the ceiling. “I flinched because I thought you were going to hit one of my nipples. I just got the motherfuckers to stop bothering me, and I don’t want anything to irritate them again.”
I held it together for five, maybe six, seconds before I doubled over in laughter. The kind that makes you spray a mouthful of drink across the room.
“You just wait!” he said and pointed a finger at me. “When you have kids and start breastfeeding, you’ll know exactly what it feels like.”
“I think the important question here is how do you know exactly what it feels like?” I asked and chewed on the inside of my lip to keep from smiling as I waited for him to realize what he’d said.
“Oh, fucking hell!” he swore when it hit him. “One of the Old Ladies in the club had a baby not too long ago. Anyway, she said the pain and symptoms I was describing were the same ones she had when she was breastfeeding. That’s all I meant,” he said vehemently and held his hands in the air. “Now, is your foot okay?”
“Yeah, I think it’s fine now. It hurt like hell at first, but it’s eased off. I’ll probably have a nasty bruise in the morning.”
“Good. Then, I’m going to get in the shower. I’m starving, and clearly my brain needs sustenance to function properly.”
I carefully got to my feet, testing my foot a few times before fully putting my weight on it. Once I was sure it was okay, I looked to Bronze. “Help yourself to whatever you need in here. I’ll be in the kitchen working on something to eat. If you get lost on the way back, press the middle button on any of the intercom panels to talk to me. There’s one in every room in the house,” I said and pointed to the one strategically placed in the bathroom to be convenient yet hidden.
“Sounds good,” he said and leaned down to kiss my cheek.
I waited until he turned and dropped his towel to head to the kitchen. But first, I darted forward and slapped my open palm on his bare ass as hard as I could before I hightailed it to the kitchen, hysterically laughing the entire way.
20
As I followed Bronze back to Devil Springs, I wondered what in the hell I was thinking when I agreed to attend a cookout at his clubhouse. His clubhouse. As in, the badass boxing biker invited the Irish princess to his clubhouse to meet his friends, his club brothers, and his blood brother—the one who told me to leave Devil Springs and not come back. Bronze thought I was nervous about seeing him again and repeatedly assured me that Layla was on Team Sloane; therefore, Copper was on Team Sloane.
To be perfectly honest, I was nervous, but it had nothing to do with Copper and everything to do with meeting Bronze’s daughter. Were babies capable of judging people? Because I was certain his little girl was going to judge me and not in a good way.
My phone ringing through the car's stereo startled me, causing my heart to slam against my ribs for a few painful beats. “Hello!” I answered, sounding every bit as frazzled as I was.
“Why do you always sound like you’re dying when I call you?” Frankie asked.
I let my mouth hang open and tried to quietly catch my breath. “I do not,” I said and managed to sound somewhat normal.
“Well, prepare yourself, because you’re about to.”
“What?” I asked, scrunching my forehead in confusion.
“Hold on. What are you doing right now?”
I chewed on my lower lip for a few beats before deciding to tell her the truth. “I’m following Bronze back to his clubhouse in Devil Springs to meet his brothers and his daughter at a cookout,” I blurted.
“Let me tell you something, girl. I already knew all that. Want to know how?” she asked, though she never paused for me to answer. “You texted me asking what someone would wear to a casual barbecue. Then, a few days later, you asked the same question about a biker bar. But the big clue was when you sent me the beta copy of your latest story—The Fighter and The Sports Journalist.