Gunnar A Motorcycle Club Romance - Nina Levine Page 0,10

fucking buttons today.” I take another sip of rum. “He wanted to get into it with me.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t understand men. Why is it so hard to walk away instead of getting your fists out?”

“And I don’t fucking understand women.” I drain my glass and pour myself another drink. “Because I’m sure she’ll tell you and you’ll bust my balls for not mentioning it if I don’t, I also saw Chelsea today.”

Alexa frowns. “I spoke to her about an hour ago and she didn’t mention it. But then again, I’ve noticed she’s stopped talking about you to me. I think maybe she’s worried about our friendship now that you two aren’t together.”

Alexa and Chelsea have been friends for years, but became really close while I was with Chelsea. I encouraged it at the time because while Chelsea knew a lot of people, she didn’t have the kind of friends she could rely on when she needed someone by her side.

“Fuck, you women worry too much about shit that you shouldn’t.”

Alexa purses her lips. “For the record, we don’t. Also for the record, most men could afford to worry about shit a little more. Now tell me you two didn’t have another fight today.”

“This is the reason I wasn’t going to mention it to you.”

“So you did have a fight.”

“We had a discussion.”

“When you say discussion, that means something vastly different to almost everyone else.”

“A fight involves yelling and screaming. There was none of that.”

She rolls her eyes. “Don’t you think you guys did enough fighting three months ago? Why couldn’t you just walk on by and ignore your burning desire to have another go at her?”

“I fucking tried. She initiated it this time.”

“Oh.” That shuts her up for half a second. “So, what happened?”

“Nothing new. It was the same old shit.”

“Okay, wait, let’s back this up. You walked past her without saying anything to her?”

I take a gulp of rum. “Yes.”

She grins. “This is good news because it means you should be able to get through my birthday party without losing your shit.”

“What birthday party?” My gut’s not feeling good about where she’s going with this.

“The one I sent you an invitation to this morning. Check your emails.”

I shove my fingers through my hair. “I take it you’ve also invited Chelsea.” And her fucking husband.

“Yes, she’ll be there, but there will be so many people at the party that you two won’t even need to be in the same room or see each other.”

“Fuck.” If it were anyone else, I’d say a flat out no, but it’s Alexa, and I can’t do that to her.

“Also, Mum and Dad will be there.”

I’m not sure which is worse, having to see Dad or having to see Chelsea with Joe.

“Right,” Alexa says as she slides off her stool, “I’m ordering Thai for dinner, and we’re going to watch the new episode of Yellowstone. Oh, and”—she smiles sweetly—“I need you to please clean my air conditioning filters and fix the tap in the kitchen.”

“Of course you do,” I mutter, but I wouldn’t care if she wanted me to renovate her entire fucking apartment. I’d do it without complaint. I might not be close to my parents these days, but I love the hell out of my brothers and sister, and would lay down and die for them if I had to.

4

Chelsea

Eight hours after seeing him at Joe’s office, I’m still thinking about Mason. I’m beginning to wonder if I’ll ever stop thinking about him. God, I’m beginning to wonder if he’ll send me crazy.

“You’ve been quiet all night,” Joe says, joining me in our library.

During our whirlwind engagement, we bought this house after inspecting twenty-three other houses. Joe is the kind of man whose attention to detail is so great it’s actually infuriating. He found the smallest things wrong with each house we looked at, so when we found this place, and he didn’t have any problems with it, I didn’t bother to tell him I hated it. I couldn’t take another house inspection. We moved in a week later after he rushed the sale, and I’ve since become adept at lying to him. Joe thinks I love this library and the furniture he filled it with. I don’t; I detest everything about it, especially the brown leather armchairs. Who wants brown furniture? Not me, and yet here I am with a whole fucking house full of it.

I look at him. If this wasn’t an arranged marriage and I wasn’t in