Page 14 of Blade

I jumped when I heard Blade’s angry retort.

“He’s right. It would be a bad fucking idea.”

I looked back at Blade and narrowed my eyes at his mirrored sunglasses, but before I could communicate how rude he was being, Grant touched my arm.

“Beck, we can have dinner another night.” He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket, producing a card. “Call me tomorrow and we can make plans.”

He leaned over to kiss my cheek, and I swear I heard Blade growl again. Grant looked up at him and smiled. He turned and headed to the front of the store to make his purchase, and I stood there watching him go.

“Stop eye-fucking Nicholson so we can do what we came here for and get shit back to the clubhouse?”

And he was back to being a jerk.

“It shouldn’t take me long. This isn’t a big list.”

“I figured you would have been done by the time I was. Instead, I come back and find you fucking flirting and making dates. We haven’t got all day to hang around while you get some.”

I stood there speechless as he grabbed my list and walked away.

I didn’t even want to be here with him in the first place, and now he just acted as if I wasn’t. Well, if that was how he wanted to act, then he could do it himself. I turned toward the front doors and headed back to the truck to wait.

Leaning against the truck scrolling through my phone, I sighed. Moments later, I looked up and saw Blade walking toward me, irritation clear on his face.

The truck beeped beneath me, signaling the doors were now unlocked. I stood up away from the truck, intending to help load the groceries, when Blade snapped, “Just get in the fucking truck.”

“I can help you load the bags.”

He stopped me with a look in my direction, and I could see the muscle in his jaw tick.

“Fine. I’ll get in the truck.”

The gentleman stayed in the store, I guess.

I didn’t understand why he was so mad. Ok, yes, I was supposed to be shopping and instead I was talking with Grant, but Blade lived in this small town. He should have known how it was when you ran into someone at the store. It would have been rude to ignore Grant and just do the shopping.

When he climbed into the truck himself, I decided to be the bigger person. “Blade, look. I’m sorry I delayed the shopping, but—”

He cut me off. “Anything that starts out with‘I’m sorry, but’isn’t an apology. It’s a fucking excuse, and I don’t need to hear your excuses.”

I blinked at him slowly.

“Wow, I try to be the bigger person and apologize, and you just can’t show any grace. I was catching up with a friend from school. You know how small towns are.”

“A friend from school?” Blade scoffed, turning to look at me. “Grant Nicholson is no one’s friend. The guy’s a fucking douche.”

He turned back and started the truck, signaling the conversation was over as far as he was concerned.

I crossed my arms and looked out the window.

I didn’t know why I even tried.

Once we made it back to the clubhouse, we silently got out of the truck as Blade headed inside a large brick three-story building.

“Aren’t we going to bring in the bags?”

“That’s what prospects are for.” He walked toward the doors, and I had no choice but to follow.

I didn’t know what to expect when I stepped inside, but what I saw was certainly not it. To the left of a very large open room was a long wooden bar along the wall. There was a huge mirror behind the bar with various bottles of alcohol lined up on shelves in front of it. To the right was a large L-shaped sectional sofa angled toward a large flat-screen TV. Two pool tables and a half dozen large round tables, each surrounded by eight to ten chairs, filled the middle of the room. There were motorcycle parts mounted on the walls, and bikers spread out in the room.

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