The Biker and the Loner (Oil and Water #3)- S. Ann Cole Page 0,20

“She’s changed, Scratch,” I lie with an underlying plea. “She doesn’t do it anymore.”

“You’re lying.” It’s a statement, not a question. “What I don’t understand is why you continue to allow it. You’re twenty-five. A grown-ass woman.” His sharp eyes cut to me. “Or have you grown to like it?”

“You don’t need to understand,” I bite out. “It’s none of your business.”

“You like it, Ley?” he questions again.

“Screw you, Scratch,” I spit, then whirl around and stomp through the smaller side gate.

“That’s mine now, Ley. Mine,” he calls after me. “And I do not intend to share.”

Chapter 5

Ley

"Why didn't you tell me any of this?" Kendra berates me from the screen of my iPad.

Her face is make-up free, her hair pulled up in a mess on top of her head. I can see most of the high-polished bedhead behind her, and the oval, gold-framed mirror above it.

After three days, I could no longer avoid her calls to evade talking about Scratch. So there. Now she knows. Everything from the night I was deflowered right up to him stalking and bossing me up a few nights ago.

With my iPad propped in my lap and my back against the headboard, I lift my shoulders then let them fall. "I don't know. You guys believed what Grunt and I’d wanted you to believe at the time—that we were hooking up. I was sort of afraid you wouldn’t want to be friends with me if you thought I hooked up with both of your brothers.”

"Probably," she admits. "But Grunt already confirmed you two didn't hook up."

"I didn't know that. It always felt like you didn't believe me."

"I didn't. But I trust Grunt’s word, and he vouched for your character. Why do you think I started letting you in?"

"Because I make amazing breakfast omelets?"

She rolls her eyes. "That's a bonus. And ohmigod I miss your cooking so much!"

I snicker. “In a few weeks."

"So," she starts, "are you gonna date him?"

"Seriously? I know he's your brother from another mother and all that, but he kind of has a reputation."

"Mhhmnh, and yet you waited for him."

"I did not!"

"You know Isaac and I started talking behind your back?” she confesses. “We narrowed it down to you being either a closet dyke or having an affair with a married man."

"What? Why would you think that of me?"

"Because it made no sense why you were single. Why you were never, ever, ever interested in anyone. We couldn't figure it out." A small grin splits her face. "It all makes so much sense now."

"I wasn't waiting for him," I refute.

"Yeah," she says, unconvinced. "Keep telling yourself that."

Picking imaginary lint off my pajama bottoms, I mumble, "He's convinced I'm his."

"So am I."

"Kenny!"

"What?" she says through a belly-laugh. "Why save yourself for someone for five years and then deny yourself?"

"He's not that kind of man—the relationship kind," I remind her. "You know that."

"Maybe he's changed." Her eyes drift above her device, and judging from the way she licks her lips and her cheeks tinges with red, Alec has entered the room.

I say, "War doesn't kill a man’s sexual propensities—aka, manwhoring ways.”

"No, but it might remind him of what's important." This doesn't come from Kendra, but Alec. Though he’s not in view, I can hear him quite well. "I have never met a soldier who didn't leave one way and come back another," he goes on. "We can't even begin to imagine what those guys go through in war. To survive all that just to come back and live an empty, meaningless life...? Trust me, he's changed."

Kendra is grinning from ear to ear, her love-filled eyes trained above—on him. "In case you were wondering how badass Kendra was able to fall so hard... That's how." Her attention comes back to the screen. "If Alec Vaughn says Scratch is changed, then he's changed."

"Ehhhh," I mutter, wholly unconvinced.

A buzz and a ping from my phone on the bed distracts me, and I use my toes to scoot it closer to me so I don’t have to move from my comfy position.

When I see Scratch’s name on the screen, I sigh.

Scratch: ON MY WAY TO YOU. GET DRESSED.

"Oh, for crying out loud," I mutter, rubbing my forehead.

"What is it?" Kendra asks.

I turn my phone screen to the iPad to let her read the text. "No preamble, nothing."

"Sounds like Scratch," she says, laughing. "If I were you, I'd start getting dressed."

I’m defiant. "No."

"Oh, girl, stop fighting it. You know you want to. Bet you're already planning an outfit