Page 16 of Tripp

She twitched in her seat, her nerves getting the better of her. I could tell she wanted to confront me, yell at me, tell me right where to go, but for some reason she held back.

“What?” I asked, finally pulling to a stop in front of my place.

“If . . . if you don’t blame me, then why did you fire me?” When I opened my door the interior light came on, illuminating her beautiful face and her confused expression.

“Because I don’t want you to ever put yourself in that situation again. It isn’t safe.” I climbed out of the truck and shut the door before she could come back with a retort. When I arrived at her door, I opened it up and extended my hand. Hawke’s truck was high and I didn’t want her to lose her footing while climbing down.

As soon as her palm touched mine, I closed my eyes and reveled in the warmth of her touch. It was brief, yet calming. I took her belongings, including my cut, from her hands and led her toward the porch.

“You have a beautiful home,” she said in awe, her voice like the softest silk, weaving its hold around every fiber of my being and entrancing me.

“Thank you, but it’s not mine. I’m just rentin’ it for now. But if I stay on, I have the option to purchase.” A large front porch ran the entire length of the cabin. Sometimes I’d sit in the lone rocking chair with a beer in hand and watch the sun disappear behind the horizon, often wondering what the future held for me and my club. There were plenty of nights I’d wished to share the scenery with someone, but until I met Reece, I hadn’t realized how lonely I’d been.

She walked quietly beside me, the only sound coming from the rocks of the pathway kicking up beneath our feet.

Once inside, I tossed everything I’d been carrying on the nearest chair and walked to the kitchen. “Do you want something to drink?”

“Water will be fine.”

After I handed her a bottled water, I intently watched her twist off the cap, raise it to her mouth and take a healthy gulp before licking water droplets from her plump lips. When she finished, she placed it on the table closest to her and stood in front of me, playing with her hands in nervousness.

When the silent awkwardness became too stifling, I spoke up. “I have some clothes you can change into.”

“Are you married?” she asked, stepping back and bracing herself on the chair behind her. Her bluish-gray eyes widened, and although I didn’t understand her appall, all I wanted to do was put her out of her misery.

“No, I’m not married.”

“Oh,” she said, rushing out a breath of air. “I thought when you said you had some clothes for me that you had access to women’s clothing.”

“No, I meant I have some shorts and a T-shirt you could wear. Or not. If you prefer to sleep in the nude, please don’t let me stop ya.” I chuckled to help relieve some of the tension, but it did nothing to stop her body from reacting. Averting her eyes, her cheeks flamed the sexiest shade of pink. How someone could take their clothes off for a living yet look so embarrassed by the mention of sleeping nude was quite the conundrum. She certainly wasn’t what I expected at all.

Dismissing her slight discomfort, she switched the subject, although what she chose to say irritated me. “I don’t want to be in the way when Arianna gets here, so if you’ll show me where I’ll be sleeping, I’ll get out of your hair.”

“What the hell are you talkin’ about? Why would Arianna be coming over?” My entire body tensed. I hated that Reece thought there was anything going on between me and that bitch. Yeah, Arianna was a bitch. I saw the way she talked to everyone at the club; I just chose to ignore it when I buried myself between her legs because I was obviously out of my mind.

“Because she told me she was.”

“When?”

“When I was getting changed at the club. She cornered me and asked me. . . .” She trailed off before finishing, becoming quite flustered again. Her blush intensified.

Oh this is gonna be good.

“What did she ask you?”

“I don’t remember,” she lied, lowering her head to avoid further eye contact.

“Reece. . . .” She kept her head down. “Look. At. Me,” I demanded, the gruffness to my tone leaving no room for argument. After several seconds, she finally raised her head. “What did she ask you?”

Her teeth played with her bottom lip in nervousness. All sorts of images of what I’d love to do with those lips ran through my head, but before I lost myself to them, she answered. “She asked me if I was fu-fucking you.” Surprisingly, she kept her eyes on me after speaking, probably counting the seconds until I broke the suddenly charged connection.

“What did you say?”

Her mouth fell open. “What do you think I said? I just met you earlier tonight.” Her mouth opened and closed a few more times, but no words escaped.

“So . . . you don’t wanna sleep with me?”

“I didn’t say that. I mean, that’s not what she asked me.” Her hands twisted errant strands of her hair. “Wait, what are you asking me?”

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