day. Hard, but heated. His hair is so blond it’s nearly white in places, and that just adds to the cold, emotionless image he projects.
It took work to hold his gaze, but I refused to look down. “So why didn’t you contact me before?”
“I’ve had your phone number, but I couldn’t figure out what to say. I do better in person.”
The waitress brought our drinks, and I assumed it was Gentleman Jack since she sat four shot glasses down along with my water. When she left, I asked, “Are you on parole, still?”
“No. McKnight got everything reduced to misdemeanor charges as part of the plea, so when they let me go, that was it. No parole officer, and I can still vote and carry and all that.”
“I want to ask how things are with the club, but I’m betting you can’t tell me anything.”
“I’ll sit down with Mad Dog and Squatch soon, let them know I’m seeing you away from the clubhouse, and that you own part of a firm that’s subcontracting under us. Nothing will happen while we’re at this stage, but if we get serious...” He looked out the window a few seconds and looked back to me. “You’d be coming back as mine, not as a sweetbutt, but there’d have to be something because of the way you left. They might let me deliver whatever it is instead of Squatch, but if the big guy feels dissed, he’s gonna want to do it.”
I stood and went to the bathroom. I needed a minute to myself without him analyzing my face and scenting my emotions. The thoughts of returning as his had been a fantasy, but he was talking as if it was a possibility.
I shook my head and looked at myself in the mirror. Fuck. Was it even healthy to consider it?
I’d had sex with a few men since I’d walked out of the Rolling Thunder clubhouse, and I’d discovered the bikers had done something to me. The last couple of months I’d been a sweetbutt, I don’t think I’d had an orgasm when they hadn’t been twisting my nipples, or unless they’d just spanked me, or fingered me with too many fingers so I’d been sore before they started fucking me. Deliciously, agonizingly sore.
And I discovered, while fucking these other men, that I could no longer orgasm from normal sex.
Now, my clit pulsed between my legs at the thought of Frost using a belt on me in front of everyone, claiming me in front of his brothers so I could return.
I wet a paper towel and went into a stall. I wiped the back of my neck, the sides and front of it, my chest, and my stomach and sides. The chill of the water helped me center. I walked back to the sink, washed my hands, and glared at myself in the mirror. You’re a grown woman. Do not fall all over him. You’re going home tonight — without him.
I tossed the paper towel in the trash and returned to him.
“Sorry about that. Why don’t we table any discussion of the club for now? It looks like you have the construction company going full-speed ahead. We’re turning away five times the work we accept — I imagine it’s the same for you.”
“Yes. Our biggest logistics problem is getting enough concrete, so at least for now, we’re only taking on jobs that use it in the foundation.”
“Yeah. We have the contract to paint the lines in a parking garage, and the dates keep getting pushed back. I understand the concrete problem is hurting everyone.”
Chapter Four
Frost
We talked shop through the barbecue and chicken portions of our meal. When the waitress brought out the bison burgers, I decided it was time to get personal again.
“You really live next door to your ex?”
“Yeah, but we live on huge lots, so it isn’t like he’s just right there. We’re about a hundred and twenty yards away from each other, and a stand of trees blocks the view. My stepdaughter spends lots of time with me, and my stepsons frequently come for dinner, or come to use the pool.”
“How old are they?”
“Nora’s fifteen, and the boys are eight. Twins. I have a feeling they’re only a year or so from their first change, though it’s early.”
I could see her affection for the kids when she talked about them, and her worry for the boys, with the possibility of them first changing so young.