“I’m so glad I caught you,” she says in a breathless rush. “I really appreciate all your help this week.” She hands him a tiny green envelope. “I wanted to give you this to say thanks.” She’s so completely focused on my boyfriend, she doesn’t even seem to notice me standing there. Holding his hand.
“Thanks, hon.” He slides the envelope in his cut pocket without opening it and squeezes my hand. “Anya, this is my girlfriend, Shelby.”
Finally, her dizzy eyes swing my way. She smiles even wider. Damn, she’s pretty. Has at least three inches on me too, with those freakin’ flamingo legs of hers.
“Oh, hey!” She yanks me into her arms, crushing me against her chest and huggin’ the stuffing outta me.
“Uh, hey,” I mumble around a mouthful of her blouse.
“Sorry.” She releases me so fast, I almost fall on my ass. Rooster steadies me with an arm around my shoulders. She glances at his bike and giggles. “You should’ve seen Rooster. I thought he was taking me to my interview on his bike. And he almost bit my head off. ‘Back of my bike is for my girlfriend,’” she says in a deep, angry voice meant to imitate Rooster.
My lips twitch. Did he really say that to her?
An image of her pressing her giant tits up against his back and hanging onto him dances in my brain and my blood boils. Nope. Nope. Nope. I shake my head, willing the mental snapshot away.
Damn right that’s my spot.
I force a smile. “Sounds like something my man would say.”
“Morning, Anya,” Jigsaw calls out. “Hey, guys. Ready to go?”
“Thanks again, Rooster.” Anya waves at us. “Good meeting you, Shelby. Hopefully, we can chat more later.”
Unlikely.
She disappears inside the clubhouse.
Jigsaw’s gaze bounces between Rooster and me. “Yeah, you two look tense. I’m gonna go…” He executes a sharp left and hightails it into the clubhouse.
“That’s what you’ve been doing here all week?” I ask in a low, tight voice once we’re alone. “Hanging out with Chesapeake Bay Barbie?”
Damn, why does that bug me so bad?
Logan’s chest rises and falls. Deep breaths. In and out. The silence goes on for so long my stomach goes into free fall.
Finally, he answers, “She works for the club and the president needed me to help her with a project.”
“What kind of project?”
“Club stuff.”
“She sure seems awful friendly with ya,” I grumble.
He yanks the envelope she’d handed him and opens it, pulling out a plastic gift card.
“You think she’d give me a twenty-five dollar Starbucks gift card if I’d been busy fucking her all week long?” He shoves the card in my face. “I’m at least worth fifty.”
Yeah, that would be weird.
But the gift card isn’t my proof. Anya’s friendliness toward me isn’t either. Rooster is. He’s already shown me in so many ways that he’s an honorable man.
“You’re worth a million.” Shame stabs me in the chest for the momentary frenzy of jealousy. I move closer and slide my arms around his waist. “Sorry,” I mumble, resting my cheek against his shirt.
He doesn’t hesitate to hug me to him. “I didn’t know what to say about it over the phone. It was all club business. Nothing more.”
Is this what normal people do? Talk stuff out? I’ve never had a boyfriend who didn’t love stroking up against my jealous streak.
Not Logan. He recognized my jealousy for what it was and immediately snuffed it out with calm, straightforward reassurance.
“You’ve had to watch me sing a love song with another guy several times and never, ever complained,” I whisper.
“I get it. Believe me, I do.” He grips my shoulders gently and bends down to look me in the eye. “I’m not the guy who wants you worried and wondering all the time, okay?”
“Okay.” I glance toward the clubhouse and wrinkle my nose. “She’s really pretty, though. Can you blame me?”
He chuckles. “She is.”
My eyes narrow.
“Will lying about something obvious help you trust me?” he asks.
I honestly consider the question before answering. It wouldn’t. Over time, I’d start wondering what else he was lying about. “No. It wouldn’t.”
“Shelby,” he rasps. “Look at me.”
He doesn’t say another word until I slowly lift my gaze to meet his.
“You’re more than pretty. You’re everything. You’re mine. Okay?”
“Okay,” I whisper.
My phone buzzes and I groan. Rooster watches as I check the text. “It’s Greg. He wants me at the arena earlier.”
For a second, disappointment clouds his eyes, but it passes quickly. “Okay. I’ll go grab your stuff so we can head there after