Page 3 of Prospect Year

“That’s obvious. We don’t have club girls. And I wouldn’t touch one if we did,” Lola told her.

“Why?” she snapped. “Not good enough for you?”

“I’ve dealt with a variety of that shit where I came from. They hop from dick to dick, then sucker you in with lies, hoping for a ring. When that falls through, they screw you again, leaving you nothing.”

“I’m not like that. But don’t you worry about me. Any man on two wheels is the last person I’d trust.”

“Then we understand each other,” he said with a glare.

“Yes, we do,” Amber agreed with a huff.

Lola glanced to where Mia stood rooted to her spot in the kitchen with her eyes darting back and forth between the bickering.

“She always this cheerful?” he asked Mia, tilting his head toward Amber.

The scarf wrapped around Mia’s neck bunched together as she lifted both shoulders.

Odd, he thought as he studied the woman for the first time. A scarf? It appears thin, almost sheer, but isn’t it warm for a scarf? She was beautiful. Stunning even. The ends of her dark hair flipped outward slightly as it lay against the thin material hiding her throat. A throat he caught himself desiring to get a glimpse of. No doubt, it was slim and sexy with just the slightest curve, like the rest of her.

“Hey,” Amber’s sharp tone pulled him from his thoughts, “I’m right here if you have a question. And for your information, I’m as happy and cheerful as you’ll ever see.” Her long waves bounced as she gave him a quick nod and whirled away.

He grinned, holding back his laughter. She was a bit shorter than Mia but not by much. And her ass was slightly wider, he noted, hypnotized by the exaggerated sway of her hips as she stormed out of sight.

This was definitely going to be an interesting stay. Two tempting women who apparently would not be talking to him. On the other hand, he decided, that could be a blessing in disguise. He, in no way, needed the distraction of a woman, not that he desired a serious relationship at all. No, that was the last thing on his list of to-dos. After his last relationship ended in disaster leaving him fighting for his life. The only relationship he needed was his bike and his club.

Chapter 2

Lola kicked his bike into gear and shot out onto the road. It was late and he wanted to crash. He huffed a laugh. Dutch wasn’t joking when he said prospecting was a hard road. The club had him running from daylight till nightfall and beyond. He liked his work at the garage. He felt at home there. The shifts at the Landing? He never knew what he might encounter there. The few security details he had manned at the Brick House were interesting.

And Angel Haven. Not quite his style, but it was a bed and that’s all he needed. Oh yeah, along with the job of chaperoning the women. Or at least Mia for Maeve. Every two to three nights when he would arrive back at the house and check the grounds and the house, Ghost had called and asked about her, with Maeve’s voice clearly controlling the questions in the background. He always heard the amusement in Ghost’s voice as he relayed the question that he had heard her ask. Ghost never expected a problem. Lola knew that. He guessed it was his way of not only pacifying his wife but also relaying a message that the men do anything for their old ladies. They were an important part of life. That was a fact he had learned in his time hanging around the club.

That was something he wasn’t sure he agreed a hundred percent with though. His track record with women told him they were not to be trusted. Not with your money, your home, and certainly not with your heart. He had none of those things at the moment, so he had no worries.

Lola pulled up to the house. It was past midnight, and the place would be dark. He smiled. It should also be quiet as usual with the girls asleep. He pushed the door open, stepping in and resetting the alarm quickly before turning toward the stairs. He was exhausted and ready to fall into his bed and not move. No luck. The kitchen light was on. His shoulders dropped as he redirected his stride toward the lit-up room. Only a few extra steps. Kill the lights, check the doors and finally he could head to bed. Only a few steps out of his way. What was that aroma? He inhaled again. Tea? At this hour?

He stepped through the doorway and froze. His gaze fell on Mia filling two mugs from a steaming teapot. Her smile was like an energy shot filling him with adrenaline.

She placed the pot back onto the stove and carefully lifted the mugs, carrying them to a small round table tucked into the corner of the industrial-sized kitchen. With the mugs planted on thick cork coasters, she pulled back a chair and eased onto the yellow and white cushion.

He gave her a lopsided smile and walked to the table, pulling out the chair across from her. At her nod, he picked up the mug and tasted it. Definitely some sort of tea. Not his preference, but he would drink it. After a few minutes of forcing the hot liquid down, he asked, “Can we talk?”

She looked up and scrunched her forehead.

“Okay, maybe that wasn’t the best question.”

She smiled at his faint laugh and nodded.

“Odd time for a cup of tea, isn’t it?”

She lifted her shoulder, dropping it when she raised the mug to her lips.

“Is this some home remedy for sleepless nights? Because I have no problem falling asleep,” he assured her.

Laughter shone in her eyes even though she said nothing, at least not verbally. Her hands flew into action.

“I don’t know sign language.” He watched again as she put her hands together and spread them apart. “Big? Long?” he guessed. As she nodded, his brain clicked. “Long day? You’re asking about my day?”

Her smile was warm and confident, somehow different from before. Leaning her folded arms on the edge of the table, she locked her gaze on his, listening.

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