“Hello,” I say to Mary, one of the girls I’d met this morning.
“Hey Faye,” she replies, smiling sweetly. “Dinner is almost ready.”
“Where is everyone?” I ask her. I haven’t seen Dex since he brought me lunch at around one o’clock.
“The women are around somewhere, I don’t know about the men,” she replies, shrugging slightly. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m okay,” I say, gently tapping my stomach. “Does everyone live here?” I ask, gesturing to the clubhouse.
“Everyone has a room here, but they don’t all live here. They crash here whenever they feel like it,” she replies, stirring the pasta she made.
“What about you?” I ask, taking a seat.
“I don’t live here, I just come by most days. I’m kind of seeing Arrow,” she explains. I want to ask what ‘kind of’ seeing means, but I don’t. Jessica, Allie, and another girl named Jayla walk into the kitchen.
“Hey girls,” Jessica calls out as she sees us. Allie rolls her eyes, and Jayla says nothing. Mary gives me a knowing smile. She is really beautiful, with dark hair and clear green eyes. Arrow is a lucky man that’s for sure. My phone vibrates, another message from Eric. I really think I need to change my number.
The men pour in, and I find myself wedged between Dex and Rake.
Not the worst place to be.
“You okay?” Dex asks, his eyes softening when they land on me.
I nod. “I’m fine.”
“You smell good,” Rake says, leaning in closer, invading my personal space.
I smell him in return. “You smell like sex, cigarettes, and leather.”
His lips curve slowly. “I had a busy day.”
“I can see that,” I reply through laughter, taking a bite of my pasta. Mary is a good cook too, Arrow needs to wife her, pronto.
“How was your day Dex?” I ask him, speaking softly so not everyone can hear.
He gently nudges me with his shoulder. “Busy.”
“What did you do?” I ask, knowing I was pushing it a little.
“Worked,” he replies, taking a bite of his food.
“Where do you work?” I ask.
He puts his fork down. “I’m a bike mechanic.”
I lean in closer to him. “Is that what you tell people?” I mock-whisper.
Rake laughs, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me into him. Dex’s lips tighten as he glares at Rake’s hand. His jaw clenches, and his eyes narrow to slits. I stare at him, watching us, waiting for him to say something, but he doesn’t. So he doesn’t care if another man touches me? I grit my teeth and smile at Rake, then concentrate on my food. Why does he want me here when he doesn’t want me? Oh right, his son or daughter. He or she is probably going to come out dressed in leather. I glance up in time to see Allie smirk at me. Smug bitch. I ignore her and everyone else, including Rake and his roaming hands, then rinse and put my bowl and fork in the dishwasher. After that I grab some juice and head back to my room. Trying not to feel sorry for myself, I watch my favourite movie on my laptop. Mario Casas always makes me feel better.
When Dex hasn’t returned to the room two hours later, I feel the loneliest I’ve felt in my life. I even consider messaging Eric back. How desperate am I? I take a quick shower and dress in the oversized shirt I sleep in. It belonged to Eric, but that’s not why it’s my favourite. It’s soft, falls just to my knees, and is my favourite shade of blue. I stick my head out of the door and look around. I know everyone must be in the games room. It’s a vast space with a pool table, darts, and huge comfy couches. I walk towards the noise, coming to a standstill when I see Dex. He’s in the corner of the living room, Allie pressed tightly against him. She leans in to kiss him, and I look away.
He’s not mine.
I need to remind myself that. He’s not my boyfriend. He’s not my anything, other than my child’s father. I run my hands along my stomach. I ignore the pain, the hurt that I’m feeling, and walk towards the kitchen. I’m getting some warm milk and then going to bed. Today needs to be over already. On my way to the fridge I bump face first into a hard chest. A very hard chest.
“Sorry,” I mumble into someone’s shirt.
A deep chuckle. “I definitely like these pajamas better.”
“Tracker,” I gasp, looking up into his handsome face.
“How are you doing beautiful?” he asks, dark eyes gazing into mine.
“I’ve been better,” I say honestly, forcing a smile. “I’m going to get some milk and go to bed.”
“Where’s Sin?” he asks, eyes narrowing.
I shrug nonchalantly. “With the guys, I guess.” Or sucking face with that hag.
Tracker scowls, then walks in front of me to the fridge. He pulls out the milk, tips some in a saucepan and puts it on the stove. He’s warming milk for me? I stare at him, covered in tattoos, dressed from head to toe in black, warming milk. A giggle escapes me.
“What’s so amusing?” he asks, turning to look at me.
I shrug, grinning. “Big bad biker, heating up milk for me. Thanks Tracker.”
He smiles and returns to the task at hand, pouring the heated milk into a mug and giving it to me. “You want to watch a movie with me?”
“I’d love to,” I whisper. He leads me down the hall, past my room, further into the back of the compound. Opening one of the doors, he leads me inside and sits me down on the bed.