Frost (Rolling Thunder MC Birmingham #3) - Candace Blevins Page 0,2

a few steps inside, listened for heartbeats, heard only Banshee’s, and closed the doors going into the sunroom.

“I’ve missed you.”

“You let me walk out.”

“That’s the way it works. No one’s there against their will.”

“You know what I mean.”

I sighed. “Yeah, but I didn’t realize I was going to miss you until you were gone. Expecting me to figure it all out in five seconds was...” I walked to one of the walls of windows and looked out. “I’m sorry I didn’t figure it out before you left.”

“Not sorry enough to look me up, though.”

“Your boss called you Shy?”

“Boss?” She asked it with a deriding laugh. “How about ex-husband?”

“You work for your ex?”

“Fuck no. We started the painting firm together. Can’t live together, but we make good business partners. We separated just before the riots, moved back together during them — mostly because I was worried about his kids — and now he lives next door. We can’t live together without wanting to kill each other, but we seem to be doing okay as neighbors.”

“He’s a Pack wolf.”

The club is supposed to vet our sweetbutts, to make sure we aren’t infiltrated. I’d assumed Mad Dog had been doing that. The old VP had done it before the battles. Had that job fallen through the cracks when he was killed? We shouldn’t have had anyone that close to a pack wolf inside our clubhouse.

“Yeah, and he’s my ex. Mad Dog talked to me about it. I told him I had no intention of talking to my ex-husband about my social or sexual life. We’re business partners now, and parenting partners. Kind of.” She sounded aggravated, as if she didn’t want to explain any of this to me. “I’d grown close to his kids from his former marriage. Their mom died in the fighting, so they live with him now, but they’re at my house a lot.”

I turned away from the wall of windows to look at her, but her back was to me again while she painted. “And I assume the kids are wolves?”

“Yes.”

“Pack wolves.”

She turned back around and gave me an exasperated look. “Yes! Pack wolves! Get over it already.”

When the Rolling Thunder MC started, decades ago, it was all wolves. Specifically, it was the wolves who didn’t want to join the Pack, which fully explains why the Pack and the Club didn’t get along. At all. Over the years, the MC’s human enemies figured out our numbers were smaller around the three nights of the full moon. They didn’t know why, but you can imagine the rumors.

So, the MC had opened membership up to any shifter who wasn’t bound to a leader more powerful than them. Technically, owls are bound to the Owl King, but I’d gotten myself banished, sort of.

In some cities, relations between the Pack and Club are better now that we aren’t two all-wolf groups, but tensions were still high between the two organizations in Birmingham.

But I needed to talk to Banshee. No. She wasn’t a sweetbutt anymore. I should get used to thinking of her as Shy. I wondered how she spelled the shortened version.

“Does everyone call you Shy, or just your ex?”

“My dad. My ex. Most of my friends.”

“But your mom uses your full name?”

“Fuck, Frost. Why all the questions?”

Because I wanted to get to know her better, but I couldn’t bring myself to say it.

“I’ve missed you.”

“You’ve missed my ass.”

“Well, yeah, but I’ve missed more than your ass. I’ve missed having you around.”

“I walked out. You and I both know I’m not coming back.”

“So maybe you and I can go out. No clubhouse.”

She shook her head and kept working. I needed to see her face, but couldn’t figure out how to get her to turn around.

“Being a fucktoy worked for me, for a while. I was gettin’ over Gil, figuring my life out. I don’t need that anymore.”

I looked at my watch. Not even nine o’clock yet. “What time do you break for lunch?”

“When my arm gets tired and I’m hungry. One of the perks of being the boss.”

Fuck, she wasn’t making this easy. “What if I bring burgers and milkshakes and fries back around noon so we can eat together? No sex. Just food and conversation.”

Chapter Two

Cheyenne

Birds have excellent eyesight, and most can pick up micro expressions. They rely on this more than scent, and I’d never practiced trying to control my face. So, I was keeping my back to him so he wouldn’t see how badly I wanted to run into his

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