His Loyal Rebel - Debra Kayn Page 0,28

people hanging out inside and outside the clubhouse.

Even having her sister in the other room failed to make her feel safe and secure in her new surroundings.

Whip was the only one she halfway knew after spending six days with him at the cabin. She knew he'd keep her safe.

"I could eat," she mumbled, dropping her purse on the floor.

He hitched his chin. "Come with me, and I'll find you something."

She followed him out to the big room at the front of the building. At the closest empty table, he pulled out a chair. She sat, but he had already moved across the room.

He surprised her. She never figured a biker would pull out her chair, but then again, he always did things that showed her he was paying attention to her. Even at the cabin, he made sure she ate and had privacy to use the outhouse between bossing her around.

Planting her elbows on the surface, she looked around for Angie. She couldn't help being mad at her sister.

If circumstances were switched, she would've helped her sister. But Angie's sole interests were centered on Ringtail.

She snarled. Everything always centered around Angie's selfishness. If her sister thought Twyla was getting any sort of attention, she'd do something outrageous to make sure everyone's focus centered on her.

Angie loved playing the victim. Growing up, Twyla was the easiest person to blame. It used to bother her when her parents believed Angie without even questioning her.

She slouched against the back of the chair. All she wanted was for her life to straighten out. Her sister could have all the Tarkio bikers at her beck and call if that's what she wanted.

She only wanted to work, find a place to live, and not have to worry about Big showing up. The next time, she might shoot his damn foot off or something.

She was tired. Physically, mentally, and her patience left days ago.

Whip returned to the table and put a plate of food in front of her. She looked at what appeared to be a casserole of some sort and a salad.

He set down two bottles of salad dressing— French and Catalina.

Giving her a fork, he sat down beside her. She glanced at him. Apparently, he wasn't going to eat.

She looked around the room. The others were only drinking.

Not having any idea where the food came from, she also knew she couldn't be choosey. It wasn't like she could run out and find a restaurant open that late at night.

"Thank you." She took a bite of casserole, finding tater tots, cheese, and hamburger in the mouthful.

He leaned closer. "The old ladies take turns bringing food around, so the men who don't go home can have a good meal."

She swallowed. "Are they going to be mad that I'm eating the food?"

"No." His gaze softened.

A ball of nerves settled under her ribs when he looked at her that way. He went out of his way to make her comfortable. Even though his gruff tone never changed with her. He'd done the same thing at the cabin. But there, she'd always ended up in his arms, sleeping like she hadn't any worries.

She needed to ignore him.

All the trouble had started because Big had seen Whip talking to her. Her ex-boyfriend would blow a gasket if he knew she was staying inside the Tarkio clubhouse.

Opening the dressing, she smacked the bottom of the bottle, putting a small amount on the lettuce.

Distracted by Whip, she wasn't tasting any of the food going in her mouth.

Loud laughter broke through the stream of music. She glanced across the room, finding Angie in the lively group beside the couch. As much as she hated to admit it, her sister fit in with the bikers.

She was a follower. Someone who would bend over backward to please Ringtail and be the kind of woman all the bikers would appreciate.

That ability to change would be a positive trait if Angie wasn't lying, manipulative, and mean.

A young child ran up to the table, plowing into Whip's knee. "Uncle!"

Caught off guard, Twyla sat back and dropped her fork onto her plate. She hadn't noticed any children at the clubhouse.

"Rocky, my boy." Whip picked up the child—apparently a boy, despite the long hair. "Where's your mother?"

Twyla's heart pounded. Did Whip have a son? A wife?

Feeling sick to her stomach, she could only stare. The kid had the same range of hair color as Whip, only baby soft and thinner.

Whip smacked the boy's cheek with his lips and rubbed his whiskers