“We have another date this weekend.” I could sense another question coming, so I added, “Dinner was nice. That’s all you need to know.”
“Did he kiss you?”
“Did Marty James kiss you during or after the Winter Dance?”
She crossed her arms. “You don’t play fair.”
“Nora, you can talk to me about anything. I don’t know why you don’t want to tell me what happened with Marty, but that’s okay — you’re entitled to your privacy so long as you didn’t do anything dangerous, or anything that could get you pregnant, which I have to tell you would be dangerous for Marty James, because I’m pretty sure your dad would either kill him or make him wish he was dead.”
“And you’re entitled to your privacy, too? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Yes. You’ll need to stay at your dad’s house from Friday evening until Sunday afternoon this week. I’ll plan to cook a huge meal for you and your brothers Sunday evening unless your dad’s already planned something.”
“You can talk to me. I promise not to tell Daddy.”
“No deal. You never promise not to tell your father something, understand? If anyone ever asks you to, you should see huge red flags all over the place, with background music screaming DANGER, DANGER!”
She rolled her eyes while she buttered the biscuits. “You’re weird sometimes.”
“Just sometimes? I was going for most of the time.”
At least I didn’t have to stress over what to wear Saturday. I pulled a white spaghetti-strap shirt on over a white sports bra, my thickest denim jeans, hiking boots, and a light tan leather jacket I’d picked up in a store just outside the mall two years before. My cat hates the mall, so I try to avoid going whenever possible.
I pulled the things I needed from my purse and put them into a brown leather mini-backpack, and added a brush, mascara, eyeliner, and homemade chapstick. Once my hair was in a ponytail, it felt like I needed to contour more, so I did.
My hair is mostly medium brown, but with some light rust streaks. It happens to look stylish now, but I’d dyed it all-brown during high school and then art school. I’d looked like a freak if I didn’t, back then.
I heard Frost’s motorcycle from at least a mile away, so I was sitting on my front porch steps when he arrived, and damn if my libido didn’t try to jump into high gear, just watching him on the damned motorcycle.
He killed the engine and took his helmet off, but stayed seated. “I’m not going to be invited in?”
“You were invited to pick me up at home. Baby steps.”
He breathed in, slow and deep, and I knew he was smelling for nearby wolves. He also visually scanned the area, and I figured he’d pick up as much or more that way, but I wasn’t certain. Either way, no wolves were close — I’d already checked.
When he’d assured himself we were alone, he twisted around to remove the extra helmet he’d brought.
“Come here, Cheyenne. Let me get it strapped on right. Have you ridden before?”
I walked to him and wished his voice hadn’t made me want him even worse. I could scent my own arousal. He’d caught me off guard with that come here order.
I looked into his clear blue eyes, and it seemed they might be a deeper blue, but maybe it was because we were outside. “You’re using my real name.”
“I am. The old name doesn’t fit — you aren’t that girl anymore. I don’t want you to be her. I want to get to know you.”
“But that was me. Maybe more of me than I want to admit, but it was. I mean, sure, I was figuring out my shit as a single woman. I guess it was my way of liberating myself? I don’t know, but it was me.” I stopped a few feet away. “I don’t want to go back, though, and I’m not sure how that works. I can’t argue that I developed feelings for you, but you’re part of the club. I don’t know how this works if I don’t…” I stopped talking because it felt wrong to say I didn’t intend to go back to the clubhouse.
“If you stay away from the club?”
I shrugged.
“Mad Dog said we’ll figure shit out if you want to come back as mine. I got the feeling he’ll keep it to a minimum. Squatch isn’t out for blood, so it’ll be me doing whatever it is. You showed